Tomb Robber
by queenxochitl
Summary: A.Edward Masen searched the world for treasure. Isabella Swan might have called him a tomb robber once, but she was the greatest jewel he ever possesed. M for lemony decade's worth of cat-&-mouse. C. late 1800's Twilight/The Mummy/Indiana Jones AH/OOC.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **I don't know how you made it down here, but you're here. I hope you enjoy your stay. Tomb Robber is a fast read. It is rated M for language, some violence, sexual content, and adult themes. That was your only warning of story's content. Thank you to Lilith617 for her beta-ninja skills and friendship. Tomb Robber is my first fan-fic. I love historical fiction and Twilight –they are infused in this story. After all, that's why we read fanfiction –to be transported to another world with the characters we dearly love. I truly hope you enjoy this carpet ride. -queenxochitl

**Prologue**

*~BPOV~*

_Nile Delta, Egypt 1888_

"I _want_…I _want_…"

Shaking like a leaf, I sank to my knees; far from the tents and cook-fires. I covered my face with my hands. The sand still holding the heat of the day; and as I knelt there that heat began seeping relentlessly through the layers of my skirts and undergarments.

The air I drew in with my ragged sobs was hot like a blast furnace. The sun was setting across the river, dyeing the wide swath of delta water blood red. The stars would soon come out to burn gloriously overhead; the wind a chill and salty from the sea a few miles away. The tents would glow from within with lamplight, and the campfires warm circles of light would provide security in this wild, lonely place. There would be food and conversation waiting for me, as well as _duty._

_Always duty. _

Which I did not mind duty. But want…I _wanted_.

I bent forward, full of torment and confusion, full of…_desire_.

It was too small a word for this huge, burning anguish rushing through me; trying to drown out every other thought and feeling. The deluge of relief after the long endless hours by my sister's bedside had destroyed my normal defenses.

Worry for Alice was replaced by exhaustion that was somehow transformed to a feverish aching. I felt dizzy, light-headed. How long had it been since I'd slept? Eaten? I rubbed my tear-streaked face and tried to think. I acted calm for so long while I held the fear inside. It was hard always being strong, always being responsible – for Alice, for my father Charlie, for newly widowed Aunt Saida and her son Seth, for _everyone_ and _everything_ in camp.

But Alice's fever had broken.

My youngest sister would live through this night and I would see that she lived through many more. Blessed be the gods that have spared my little sister's life by the sickness that ravaged this harsh, alien land. My beloved land, a place I call home.

Renee had not survived the treks from ruin to ruin. Mother had not been able to live with Charlie's burning obsession, while I thrived and grew from touching the bones and bricks of dead civilizations. My middle sister, Rosalie, was safe at school back in Scotland. I had won that battle with Charlie, sending Rosalie back home to live with Aunt Lauren after mother died. Alice must return home now, too. I could not bear to lose anyone else I love.

I cannot hold back the tears that are falling now; indeed I will lose someone – tomorrow.

Though losing _him_ was inevitable.

What a help _he_ would be to Charlie if he stayed. Regardless, he was to return to Chicago soon. For he was ambitious and would never settle for being Charlie's assistant. I do not know if his ambition was the fatal character flaw Charlie insisted it was, nor did I care if others thought he was flawed. _He_ was the most beautiful man in the world…to me. He was handsome, brilliant, and he made me feel…

_Wanted._

He would look at me with a fire in his brilliant green eyes – look at me from the tips of my toes all the way up to the top of my head – making a slow, bold study of my form and figure in a way that seemed to covet. To promise, to claim.

When he looked at me like that, fire followed; leaving me without any air in my lungs, any thoughts in my head. I was aware only of the weakness of my knees, of the fluttering, hot ache deep inside me. Of the way my breasts and all of my secret places felt that they were somehow being touched by his intense gaze. The first time he had look at me like that had lit a fuse in me, a thing that sizzled and burned and that I feared would lead to some awful, wonderful explosion.

I can't bear the thought of never having him look at me again. Never again making me feel this way. I had hoped and prayed to be beside him for every hour of the few remaining weeks left of the excavating season. Then Alice had come down with the horrible fever.

How long ago had that been? How many days since I'd had a glimpse of –

But what did it matter now? I was here to take care of others I had to be reasonable, pragmatic, and sensible.

But I _wanted._

I needed to concentrate, to plan. There were important matters I must organize. Alice was so much a miniature version of Renee; the argument with Charlie to send her back to Scotland would be fierce. I understood his reluctance, his loneliness. His ache for normalcy in this seductively foreign land.

Uncle Billy had succumbed; he'd "gone native," married a foreigner-and his reputation as a scholar suffered. Charlie jealously guarded his standing in the academic community. That included having a regular home life with his children as well. I would miss Alice terribly, but she must live someplace where she could grow healthy and strong. Perhaps she could return when she was older. But I would not risk the life of the baby of my family. I would take Alice to Aunt Lauren herself, book passage and go despite Charlie's protests.

Of course, my _angel_ would be long gone by the time I returned.

I could feel the tears coming down in torrents once more. My angel, with his intense green eyes and silky bronze hair and long-fingered, fascinating hands; would never again look at me in that way that made me melt and catch fire at once. I'd known the day would come when I would never see his wide mouth curled in a teasing, lop-sided smile that promised…something.

My life would be empty without the sight of him. My breath would no longer catch and my heart would no longer race at watching him move, long limbed and sure, graceful and strong. I would never again catch a glimpse of the hard, rippling muscles of his back and shoulders when he stripped to wash at the edge of the river. Or be so painfully aware of the outline of his thighs when he sat upon a horse or crouched beside me to examine some clue to the past in the sand. Sometimes his thigh would brush against mine. Sometimes his hands would inadvertently touch me. Sometimes we would glance at each other with our faces within a distance of a kiss as I would pass a potsherd or ancient coin into his experienced hands.

I had never been kissed and secretly hoped he would kiss me just once before he returned to America. Aunt Saida had said _he_ wanted to kiss me, and made a point not to let us be alone if she could help it. This was right and proper, of course. But…

It would be too much to hope that he would take my hands in his and declare his undying devotion. How could he though, if we had never had a private moment together? He had such beautiful hands. I dreamt of those hands on me. I'd wake up not remembering where he'd touched me, or how – but I yearned for…something.

Something that would put out the fire he kindled inside of me.

I did not want to go to Scotland; I did not want to be where he was not. The pain of loss fueled the burning in my soul and I wanted to beat my fists against the sand and beg the ancient gods of this place for more time. For freedom to do what I wanted rather than what was necessary, just this once.

By the time I returned from Scotland, his touch, his unknown kiss; would be lost to me forever. I would never see his crooked, edgy smile. Never hear his deep voice with its easy teasing, Yankee drawl. America was so far away…

Did the goddess Isis walk in this place any longer? Isis, who had lost her lover and searched the world over until they were together once more…she would understand my plight. Would an Egyptian goddess grand a Scottish lass a boon?

"Please, I _want_…" and then I felt it. The insistent, delicious electric current that ran from my toes to my temple whenever he was close.

"What is it you want?" he breathed in my ear.

At the unexpected, longed-for sound of his voice behind me; a shudder went through me.

Fear? Anticipation? Of what?

I lifted my head, unashamed of my tears as I turned slowly to face him. Shame was burned out of me, along with fear and every ounce of sense I'd ever had. We were alone. For the first time ever, we were completely alone. He had found me in the night, when my heart was breaking, when I needed him most.

The last spark of the day's light at his back outlined him in gold and crimson, setting him apart from all that surrounded us. Twilight was setting us apart from the world. I could do nothing but stare.

His gaze held mine, dark as midnight. He held out his hand out to me. "What do you want?" I reached for his hand. He drew me up and to him, as strong as he was beautiful. I caught the sharp scent of his skin as he took me into the circle of his embrace. I breathed him in as deeply as I could.

Almonds, Myrrh…sand.

He whispered to me, his lips close to my ear, his breath intimate against my cheek. "What do you want, Isabella?"

Need set me trembling and my knees grew weak. I put my hand on his shoulder, needing his strength. With my lips so close to his, I could do nothing but tell the truth…

"_You_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **Thank you for taking the time to read this diddy. It is now ten years after the prologue..pay attention to detail and it will slowly evolve. Thanks to Lilith617 for beta-ing this.

*~BPOV~*

_Muirford, Scotland 1898_

"All I am saying, Bella, is that if you don't show a proper decorum I will quite simply die!"

"She means she won't find a beau," Alice translated Rosalie's concern.

"Which is infinitely worse," Rosalie said to Alice, turning to the fourteen-year-old who sat in a huge wingback leather chair. "You're too young to understand. And Bella's too old and – "

"Dried up?" Alice teased.

She had a wicked, quick wit, that Alice; and a penchant for telling too much truth. I was un-stung by anything either girl said as I watched Rosalie's cheeks go bright pink with embarrassment.

Rosalie was blond, gorgeous, and fair skinned like Renee; while Alice and I had milky skin and dark hair like Charlie. Rosalie and I inherited Charlie's golden brown eyes, while Alice faired Renee's up-tilted blue eyes. Alice was quite the fairy child; though sometimes demon seemed more appropriate.

"Bella is uninterested in anyone who hasn't been dead for at _least_ a thousand years," Rosalie hastened to explain. She turned to face me; I sat behind huge piles of papers at the desk to review for Charlie.

"Bella, I don't think that you're a dull old spinster or anything…but, well, you are, and…" Rosalie waved her hands dramatically, encompassing the library and all the books and artifacts yet to be unpacked. "I care nothing for all this. Scholarship isn't for a proper woman. I want – "

"A husband and children and a nice house with a rose garden," I defined my middle sister's longings. _Wanting_ anything was dangerous, as I well knew, but I had been sixteen once myself. Fortunately, Rosalie's wants were more modest and mundane than mine had been. Rosalie would also be seventeen in a few days. Seventeen was not a bad age to begin thinking of home and hearth, and a husband to provide them.

"It would be nice if you met someone this summer," I acquiesced.

_Just as long as you have a long courtship, and an even longer engagement, my girl._

I wanted my sisters to know and trust the men they fall in love with. I glanced past Rosalie to Alice, who was still too enamored of dogs, horses, and kittens to care about the males of her own species. I smiled to myself as I looked back at Rosalie making a mental note not to use words like species; or bring up Darwinism in company. I am sure Rosalie would come up with a huge list for me of the subjects that ladies shouldn't discuss.

"You do realize, I hope," I said to my nearly-seventeen-year-old sister, "that any eligible young man you are likely to meet here in Muirford will either be teaching at the University or be studying at it."

"No man I marry is going to end up a professor, I assure you," Rosalie proclaimed. "We've already had way too much of that in the family. Young men are trainable."

I had not found that to be true, though Rosalie sounded very certain of her ability to manage a man. Perhaps I should have a heart-to-heart talk with my sister about the realities of life. Or perhaps Rosalie _could_ teach me a thing or two about feminine wiles. It really isn't something I had made a study of. Right now however, I had no wish to dampen Rosalie's enthusiasm at the prospect of going out into society.

"You'll have to concentrate your husband hunt away from the history department, then. If you don't want a dusty professor for your mate," I informed Rosalie.

"Mother didn't mind a dusty professor," Alice spoke up then giggled. "But Charlie doesn't count, I suppose. He's never stayed in one place long enough to get dusty."

"Until now," Rosalie sighed with relief. "And he is the grandson of an Earl. Mother married quality as well as brains. I'm so glad he's taken the appointment here in Scotland, where the Swan name has some cachet. I'm sure to find a beau among the young men who are going to Muirford."

"Fortunately for you, Sir Michael intends Muirford University to turn out engineers and other such fine, practical professional men," I said to her trying not to sound bored out of my mind. "I'm sure they'll strike a nice balance between dusty and socially presentable for you."

Sir Michael Newton; newly knighted and rolling in money earned with the sweat of his factory workers' brows, was endowing this new University in the Highland Village of his birth. He'd bought the estate where the Newton family had toiled for generations as tenant farmers, and put in a railway line to reach the remote town.

Beautiful stone and brick buildings were going up. A fine teaching staff had been hired. There was even going to be a Museum. History scholars from all over the world were arriving for a conference to be held this very week, and there was to be a Highland Ball and many other festivities to celebrate Sir Michael's grand project.

I agreed that it was all very exciting, and strove hard to hide my bitterness at being a watcher rather than a participant in these wonderful events. I had tried, Lord knew I had. Sir Michael had been quite kindly towards me and very interested in my ideas since we'd first met at the dig he was financing for Charlie on the island of Amorgis.

I'd had many pleasant conversations about the future of the world during afternoon teas with Aunt Saida, but he had not agreed to allow women to attend his new University. I had pointed out that Oxford and Cambridge allowed women to attend classes and had said I hoped that Muirford would do the same. I'd persuaded him to at least glance at Josephine Butler's writings on women's education. I also told him about having briefly attended Oxford, which had swayed Sir Michael a bit closer to my point of view.

"You will be the belle of every party and have hundreds of suitors," I said to Rosalie.

"Fall in love and live happily ever after," Alice added.

"Not unless Bella cooperates, I shan't," Rosalie declared, returning to the original subject. She waved an admonishing finger at me. "Talk about the weather. Ask about fishing. Speak of gardening if anyone brings up digging. Let them drone on and on about every dull subject in the world, and smile while they do it. Don't dance. Don't mention that you've worn trousers. Or been shot at."

"Or killed snakes," Alice giggled. "Or stolen a prince's favorite stallion."

"I don't want to know," Rosalie huffed.

"Or slept in a Pharaoh's tomb," Alice continued.

"It was that or be found by those awful Turkish slave dealers," I exclaimed.

"You're making this up, aren't you?" Rosalie demanded. "Please tell me you're only teasing me."

"Or broke anyone out of prison," Alice went on.

"How do you know that?" I asked Alice incredulously; Alice cackled.

"Or done anything at all that a lady shouldn't. You'll be the death of Rosalie Swan if you do!" Alice finally declared with a hand clapped melodramatically across her brow.

"Don't tease like that in front of company," Rosalie said sweeping a hand over her dress. Rosalie even at sixteen had a voluptuous body. She was truly gorgeous.

She grew serious and twisted her hands together as she spoke. "This isn't a problem for me, but Aunt Lauren is…About Saida..."

I shot out of my seat at Rosalie's tone, and Rosalie backed up a step in reaction. Though I was a woman of intellectual depth, but no great physical height, I could still be formidable.

"Saida is _our_ Aunt," I said, my voice dangerously quiet and firm. I knew where this was going. Aunt Lauren could be such a prude.

"By marriage. Aunt Lauren said…"

"Aunt Lauren can go to the devil."

Rosalie was nothing if not persistent, even though she paled at my fierceness and bad language. "But Aunt Lauren says it will be seen as almost scandalous to have a foreign woman living in a widower's household."

"Aunt Lauren is small minded," Alice spoke up. "Saida helped raise us."

"Not I," Rosalie reminded her. "Father should never have taken you back to Egypt and then to Greece after you fully recovered from that awful sickness, Alice." She turned back to me. "You shouldn't have kept going back, either. We should have stayed together, been proper sisters instead of just having visits and letters. You shouldn't have run away from Oxford."

"I did _not_ run away. I had to go back to show Charlie that I'd found the key to translating the Alexandrian papyrus in the Bodeian Library."

"You could have sent the translation by post."

"I wanted to go back, Rosalie. The papyrus was – "

"I am ever so sick of hearing about that stupid papyrus. Is it more important than family?"

"That document is very important to our family." I was completely taken aback by Rosalie's sudden vehemence, and deeply affected by my younger sister's pain. "I couldn't trust what I learned to a letter. Charlie needed that information."

"I needed you," Rosalie said. "I missed you all terribly."

Alice came up to Rosalie and put her arms around her. "We missed you, too. We're together now. You can come back to Greece with us when we return."

"I want us to be a normal family," Rosalie said. She sniffed and dashed away a tear.

I didn't regret my years away from Scotland. In fact, I could barely wait for Charlie to persuade Sir Michael to outfit a new archaeological expedition. What I did regret was that Aunt Lauren, mother of four boys, had adamantly insisted on keeping "her little Rosalie" who was "the daughter she never had" with her.

I had been grateful initially, but then the years stretched away, Rosalie stayed put, and Charlie let her. And now her influence was reaching into our reunited household at Muirford. Well, I would deal with her. And I would try to give Rosalie what she so desperately wanted: a vine-covered cottage with a rose garden in the back and a proper stay-at-home family to introduce her beaus to.

I came around the desk and joined Alice and Rosalie in a three-way sister embrace. "You're too pretty to cry," I said, passing a handkerchief from my skirt pocket to Rosalie. "Can't have you all red-eyed if you're to have tea with Lady Angela today, can we?"

"Oh dear, I forgot! What time is it?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out an elaborately chased gold watch engraved with the initials _AEM_. I had long ago developed the habit of running my thumb over the lettering as I opened the watch. I knew it was foolish, but I did it anyway.

"Not yet two," I told Rosalie, snapping the watch closed before placing it back in my pocket. "You have plenty of time to make yourself pretty. You're not expected at the Weber House until four. Aunt Lauren will be here to take you to the Weber House at three."

"Take _us_," Rosalie said. "Though how I shall get you presentable on such short notice, I do not know."

"Charlie's library..."

"You're not his slave," Rosalie declared.

"I am his _assistant_," I told my younger sister, though, of course, officially I wasn't. Charlie was quite insistent about me remaining in the background. Over the years I had discovered that the background, where no one paid attention to what I was doing, was a useful place to be. But I had just made a promise to myself to help my sister achieve the normal life she craved.

"I suppose I really must go." I sighed, "I'd resigned myself to dealing with gown society, but I'm not at all comfortable with townies. Especially townies with titles in front of their names. How do I deal with Lady Angela?"

"Politely," Rosalie replied firmly. "Deferentially, but remember who _you_ are."

"She's been nice to me," Alice spoke up. "She's letting me keep Saladin in her stables. She says I'm welcome at the Weber House any time. She said your thank-you note was some of the finest penmanship she'd ever seen, Bella."

Rosalie said, "You don't have any trouble speaking to Sir Michael, Bella."

That was true, but then I had been on my territory. And he'd certainly been so helpful in the aftermath of the accident.

_No_, I did not want to think of those awful few days. But the shouts of the men trapped inside the collapsed tomb filled my head for a moment, ancient dust clogged my throat, and desperate fear clutched hard at my heart.

_Oh, God! Edward! _

"Bella? _Bella_? Are you all right?"

I found that I was looking at my hands, and I was surprised to see that they were not covered in dirt and blood from my frantic effort to dig my way to the blocked burial chamber. I forced my thoughts away from that endless moment when I'd wanted to die, and made myself smile at my younger sisters.

_Why? Why at this moment do my thoughts return to him?_

"Umm…yes! I suppose we'd better change before Aunt Lauren arrives."

As I rose from behind the desk I glanced out the window and caught a glimpse of Aunt Saida reading on the bench in the lovely walled rose garden behind the house.

"I'll be upstairs in a few minutes. Don't worry, I won't be late," I added reassuringly, and left the library to go the garden."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's note: **Thank you for reading. Please review and tell me what you think. I am grateful to my beta-wifey, Lilith617, for beta-ing this baby. Also, all flashbacks in this story are in italics. Thanks again!

*~EPOV~*

"You still have the pelvis of a camel."

_What in God's name?_

The words floated over the garden wall I was passing, along with a heavy, heady scent of roses and sandalwood. The statement alone, spoken in Arabic, would have been enough to bring me up short, but the combination of all three halted me in my tracks.

Professor Banner continued along the newly laid brick walk without me- _poor bastard_, still deep in a one-sided conversation about dating the Black-ware pottery I had donated to the museum. I lingered by the wall, breathed in the rose perfume, and cocked my head to listen.

"You really think so, Saida?"

The voice that spoke was sultry, full of delight. _Familiar_.

Not unexpected, though. I knew she'd be here. Yet, _damn_, the sound of it still shook me down to my bones. I caught my breath and took a step closer.

I'm a fairly tall man, and the wall was not that high. Nor did I have many qualms about indulging my curiosity. I'd never been strong on having damn qualms. And I'd made a career of indulging my curiosity, though my excavations and dealings in the Middle East have given me many other… _names_ by friends and rivals.

It did not take much effort for me to stretch a bit and get a glimpse into the rose garden. The roses were mostly red, her dress was gray, and her hair shone darker in this northern land.

The constant blanket of fog was clouding the sun; where she was always at her most beautiful. Seeing her in this setting felt alien to me. She belongs in the desert - where the sun kisses her hair and the red in it shines, where the caramel in her chocolate colored eyes melt, and her flush pulsates the air.

She had a paisley shawl tied around her hips, her hips: _God_, her hips were swaying, and Saida was right. Isabella Swan moved her body with the sinuous, swaying, rolling rhythm reminiscent of a ship of the Nile. But on a camel it wasn't utterly, intensely seductive.

The incongruousness of a fair skinned woman belly dancing in a Scottish garden only added to the allure of the moment. I couldn't help but smile, though there was tightness to my expression and in my trousers. I could not help but remember.

_The girl shouldn't have run off crying, and I shouldn't be off looking for her. It had been two hours before I could get away from her father's droning prattle. _

_The man paid no attention to the girl, but I hadn't stopped thinking about her pretty heart-shaped face and eyes bright with unshed tears throughout the afternoon. She was aware of the crocodile and hippos that swarmed the river; she'd be safe enough. _

_But still..._

_I _wanted_ to be the one to wipe her tears away, and I knew well enough that it wasn't because I sympathized with her pain. I wanted to be alone with her when I wiped her tears away. I smiled. Oh, yes, I knew where my comforting her would lead._

_Still, idiot though Charlie was, I'd tried to learn something from spending another day in the man's company. I had known Swan wasn't as brilliant as I'd heard from the moment we'd met, but it was too late to leave – besides, there was much I could learn on my own simply by taking part in the excavation. And his daughter was actually interesting to talk to - too smart for her own good. Her father knew it and didn't like it one little bit. _

_I like my women smart. Smart women were better in bed. I like it even better when they looked like Isabella Swan. She rated high on looks as well as intelligence, with her big, bright brown eyes, and lush delicious pout._

_I thought about her lips as I hurried down a path that led to a strand of trees and reeds at the water's edge. For a few moments only the sound of the slow, powerful river filled my ears. The wind shifted, and a drumbeat accompanied by the bright tinkling of finger cymbals drifted up from the water's edge, followed by the equally bright music of a woman's laughter._

_Both sounds caught something primal deep inside me. I turned with fresh eagerness and moved cautiously to peer through a break in the thicket of reeds. _

_I'd heard about a type of erotic ethnic dancing practiced by the native women…but I'd never expected to witness it. Yet there on a flat stretch of shore between the river and a wall of reeds were two women dancing as a boy beat time for them on a hand-held drum. They were barefoot, with bells on their ankles, adding to the exotic music as they moved. _

_Then I saw her. _

_Christ. Isabella's hair flowed freely down her back and her face was bright-eyed and rapt with concentration. Though she was covered from neck to ankle in the flowing layers of traditional striped and embroidered garments, the soft clothing enhanced rather than concealed hips and breasts that swayed and quivered like nothing I'd ever seen before. Her gestures were fluid and beckoning; the finger cymbals clashed out a wholly alien rhythm. The sound and sight filled all my senses. I was enraptured and hyperventilating. She was willow-slender, lithe-limbed, and her slightest movement redolent with seductive promise._

_Her unbound hair shone like silk of the pharaohs in the brilliant afternoon light. I forgot who I was, forgot why I'd come down to the river. She was the most beautiful, wanton thing I'd ever seen. My hands curled into fists at my sides, and I began to burn from a more insistent heat than the desert sun. _

_I _wanted_ Isabella Swan._

_Then the dancing stopped as Isabella Swan stomped her foot, turning from goddess into girl. She rounded in frustration to Saida. "I can never get that shoulder roll right, no matter how much I practice it!"_

"_You're getting better. It's not as if you've been doing this all your life, Bella."_

"_I'm grateful you agreed to teach me."_

"_The women in my family dance. I don't have a daughter, who else can I pass it on to?"_

"_Does your back still hurt or has the dancing helped like you said it would? And why did Charlie call me a fool?" Bella added as young Seth put down the drum and ran off to play. "All I did was suggest that he ask the women who've been doing Egyptian laundry for thousands of years how they thought the ancients pleated the clothing shown in tomb paints. Seems perfectly sensible to me."_

_Intelligent. Sensible. Sensual. Beautiful. I _want_…_

_Saida slipped off the finger cymbals and put her hands on the small of her back. "The dancing helps," the Arab woman told her Scottish niece. "Men are rarely sensible, Bella; men like your father are rarer than most."_

"_Angel says – " _

"_Your angel is _no_ angel," Saida said harshly. "I don't trust that Edward. I don't trust the way he looks at you."_

_I almost laughed. She calls me…_Angel_? Saida certainly wouldn't like the way I was looking at her Bella right now – but then, the lascivious way she'd been dancing invited looking at, didn't it?_

_I'd already been attracted to Swan's eldest daughter, but seeing her like this…I yearned to touch the fire her dancing hinted at. Attraction shifted to consuming need, to determination. I would have her before the season was over._

"I really must go"

Bella's voice brought me back to the present and reminded me that I also had somewhere I was suppose to be. But a gathering at Sir Michael Newton's home holds no hint of excitement, none of the edgy pleasure of spying on Isabella Swan who was out of place in this tame setting as one of the _Houris_ of Paradise would be in the village church.

"I promised Rose I wouldn't dance," Bella went on. She and Saida shared a secretive smile. "As if I'd ever dance in public," she smirked.

"You did once," Saida replied playfully.

"Don't remind me," Bella spat with disgust.

It reminded _me_, and sent cold anger washing through me.

Oh, yes, Isabella Swan had danced in public once. I thought, turning on me heel irate, eager now to catch up with the Professor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **Hi there. A little note to remind you that E&B's relationship has had a..tumultuous development in the ten years they have known of each other's existence. Also, small reminder that the flashbacks will be in italics in the story. I'd like to thank my sweet-tits, Lilith617 for beta'ing this**. **

*~BPOV~*

"I think what Sir Michael is doing is wonderful," Lady Angela spoke up "It's the most exciting thing that has ever occurred in these parts." She breathed heartily, and then looked directly at me, "I've often wondered what it would be like to have adventures."

_Oh, dear. _

I had a sinking feeling realizing that Sir Michael must have mentioned my travels to Lady Angela, and Lady Angela wanted tales of derring-do and hardship in exotic faraway settings. Rose was not going to be pleased…or maybe regaling an audience with _selected_ tales was the price of Rose's entrée into local society, then I'd tell Lady Angela what she wanted to know.

I smiled back at our hostess. "I'm sure you can tell us what life is like in Egypt and Greece, my dear," Lady Angela prodded.

"Hot," I answered short, trying to _select _my words, hastening to add, "I've certainly missed the green hills and soft rain of home."

It was a blatant lie and my sisters read right through me. I could hardly wait to return to sun-washed lands, to small villages with their whitewashed walls and blue roofs bathed in heady gold sunlight to the silver-green of olive roves, the orange-red of poppies blooming along a dusty roadside, the sweet taste of ripe melon, and the flap and creak of windmills of Greece.

And Egypt! I missed Egypt a hundred times more than the lovely Isles of Greece. There was nowhere in the world like it. Even if I had buried my heart and all my hope there, I held my memories of Egypt dear, the bitter and the sweet.

_Edward._

These Highland ladies didn't want the reality, though, with its flies and fevers and hardships and heartbreak. They had enough reality at home. But the joy…_Oh_, I could give them joy.

"When I was a little girl my father and uncle, Billy- became part of a team from Oxford that excavated tombs in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt. Charlie took my mother and me with him. Some of my first memories are of the narrow streets of Cairo, the sound of Muslims being called to prayer; of donkeys and camels laden with all sorts of mysterious wares, and women out in the streets in heavy veils and dark robes but wearing beautiful bright colors indoors.

"_And the ruins_! Huge and imposing; with statues of mysterious gods and ancient kings as tall as buildings. Ancient temples were my playgrounds. We would travel to Alexandria on holidays so Charlie would pursue his search for Alexander's tomb. Alexandria is an ancient Mediterranean port city. The people there are from every part of the world, and the bazaars sound like the Tower of Babel. They smell of exotic spices and Turkish coffee and the sweet aroma of burning hemp." I sighed heavily, my musings eliciting a burning need to return to the mysterious land I so desperately missed.

"Why do they burn ropes?" Mrs. Cope, the vicar's wife, asked; pulling me from my reverie.

I looked in to Mrs. Cope's innocent stare for a moment and decided that it wouldn't be good for Rosalie's future to discuss hashish. "It's used as a medicinal drug," I explained coyly.

"Burned rope as medicine?" Mrs. Cope laughed. "What queer folk."

"Aye," Lady Angela agreed with a sage nod.

I strove to change the subject before I could lose my temper, thinking of Rose. "We kept searching for Alexander. Once we traveled through the desert on camels to the oasis of Siwah we had discovered that we were chased by Bedouin brigands out to rob us."

Lady Angela's hands flew to her cheeks. "_Brigands_! How exciting! Did they catch your caravan?"

"We were chased into some ruins."

"Then what happened?" She pushed.

_I dragged our wounded caravan guard behind the shelter of a broken column, quickly seeing that the wound was not mortal; and snatched his rifle from his hands to defend our party. If the raiders got a chance to take up a circular position around the ruins, our caravan would be done for. The brigands could catch us in crossfire, or besiege us and wait for the harsh desert to do the work of finishing us off._

_The gunfire all around me was rapid and loud. My heart was pounding hard in my ears. I took a calming breath and concentrated, needing to protect our efforts. I ducked behind a statue of jackal-headed Anubis and took a look around. The place we'd run to for shelter held a campsite, and the people already here had joined us in fighting off the raiders. _

_Thank God, we were saved! But we weren't out of trouble yet; I shouldered the rifle and took aim, but I was too far into the shelter of the ruins. My shots may hit a defender; I kept low and headed for the perimeter._

_At the edge of the camp was a line of columns, jutting upward like bleached and broken ribs in the sand. Coming around one column I spotted a man in Western clothing and a wide-brimmed hat, a rifle held at ready in his hands. He turned slowly to face me just as I saw a shadow emerge from behind one of the columns._

"_Look out!" I screamed._

"_Behind you!" he shouted._

_I whirled around and fired. My attacker dropped. I heard shots behind me and turned back to see that the man who'd warned me had dispatched his adversary as well. He turned back to me._

"You!_" he shouted, his green eyes surprised and relieved at the same time._

_Edward. He was here. I moved toward him. Always towards him, as he took a step toward me. The fierce desert wind snatched off his hat, revealing thick silky bronze hair._

"_You!" I shouted back, irate. I made an abrupt stop and stood rooted in place. Two years fell apart like a broken mirror. If someone had shot me in the back I wouldn't have noticed. "You're in America!"_

"_You're in Scotland."_

"_I'm here," we both said in unison._

"_Bella!" Charlie was suddenly between us, hustling me toward the horses._

"_But –" I gestured behind me, unable to speak another word except, "Edward..."_

_He gave him a contemptuous glare. "Forget him, girl! Can't you see what he's become?"_

"What happened? Were you robbed?"

"Actually," I answered, feigning to be dismissive despite the shards of glass in my heart, "we were rescued by tomb robbers."

I could not have more details of our rescue. It had been the first time I had seen Edward since our…first and last _time_.

Before anyone could comment on this, the butler entered carrying an envelope on a silver tray. Lady Angela accepted the note with a decided air of relief. She seemed even more relieved when she looked back at her watching guests. "Sir Michael has sent carriages. He's invited us to move our entertainment elsewhere."

"Elsewhere?" Mrs. Cope questioned. "Whatever does that mean?"

"This is a bit irregular, but I did mention this gathering to Michael. He told me that he was having a gathering himself today," Lady Angela conceded.

"Charlie was invited to Sir Michael's this afternoon," Rosalie spoke up for the first time. "Wasn't he, Bella?"

"He sent his regrets, Rose. All the staff and all the guest speakers who have arrived are at Sir Michael's this afternoon," I countered. "A brandy-and-cigars sort of thing, I was given to believe."

"And we have been asked to join them," Lady Angela said. "Turn two parties into one. Michael has changed the gathering into a buffet dinner. He regrets the informality of the event, but we can hardly scorn his gallantry in sending carriages for us." Lady Angela smiled fondly and rose to her feet.

The rest of the ladies, one by one joined her. I followed suit certainly happy to escape being the center of attention myself. In fact, I was rather eager to run to the familiar, dry, bland, emotionally safe company of scholarly males.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note:** Hi there. I am excited to know what you think – see you down below..

*~EPOV~*

"I didn't shoot the blasted thing," Sir Michael replied to Vicar Cope's compliment. "I think it's hundreds of years old. I'm told it's one of the largest racks of antlers ever seen in the Highlands. It came with the house." He smiled, looking almost fondly at the stuffed stag head over the mantel, "some ancestors of mine probably had to gut and clean the poor beast, and got no reward for their trouble: except for the reward of serving the Laird, of course."

"You're the Laird now, Sir Michael," Professor Banner spoke up.

"A Laird protects the land and the people," Sir Michael rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "I do want the best for Muirford. Aye; the rail line, the University, the Museum, the Hotel: all that. I'm proud to have brought them all here. Despite my beginnings, I suppose I can reckon myself the Laird now that the last of the McKay's have gone to his reward."

Sir Michael Muir was not a man who tried to hide where he came from behind the protection of his huge wealth and new title. He was quite proud of his past, and I liked the man for it. I could tell that Sir Michael's bluff honesty set most of the other guests' teeth on edge, but then, most of those guests were British.

I am an American from iron-hard Chicago. Where I come from it is no shame to earn your fortune rather than inherit it. I smiled at the thought, but with irony rather than the old accustomed venom.

Once, and not so long ago, I'd believed as firmly as any British Lord that I deserved to have the world given to me on a gold platter, that everything I wanted was mine by right of I simply – _being_. Sometimes, though I still felt that way towards one account in particular.

Pity I had to lose everything before I started learning a few lessons in humility. I didn't wear humility well.

I moved around the gathering in search of diversion. I naturally shift; mind _and_ body out of habit: from running to one campsite to another. The great hall within the Manor house contains a beamed ceiling from which huge wheel shaped chandeliers are suspended. A dark parquet floor polished to a reflective shine, and tall windows with stained-glass depictions of hunting scenes.

Wall tapestries and stuffed trophy heads carry on the hunting theme. The long room is peppered with knots of academic gentlemen wearing dark suits and grave faces, each group engaged in intense conversation. I snagged a glass of wine from a footman and moved toward the nearest knot of scholars. I knew Charlie Swan was invited…wasn't he one of these stuffed shirts presenting? Where is he by the way?

"Schliemann, of course, is a fraud," were the first words I heard as I approached the group.

"_Fraud_?" an aghast Professor Banner, who'd arrived from Canada, asked Professor Crowley, from England. "How can you call the greatest man in our profession a fraud?"

"Ha!" Crowley gestured scornfully, "but he's not in '_our'_ profession, is he, professor? What University is he associated with? None; he's a grocer and a fraud. His claims that he's found the site of ancient Troy by simply reading the _Iliad_ and digging up a mound in Turkey are ridiculous. He'll be found out soon enough!"

"But," Banner spoke up, "the gold! The treasures!"

"Fakes. Every last one of them. I stake my reputation on it." Crowley gave an emphatic nod, than bent his head forward. "I have it on good authority that a goldsmith created the so-called Gold of Troy from gold Schliemann procured in California." Crowley glanced at me as though all Americans were in on this conspiracy tale he was spinning. It was only an hour since I'd met this quack and I already disliked him. "I will be presenting my proofs at the conference. I will say no more for now. Be sure to attend when I read my paper, gentlemen."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," I said, and received a blistering look from him.

Hiding my smile, I moved on toward my colleague and best friend Emmett Cullen, over by the buffet table where he stood.

"I heard that Sir Michael has invited lady friends over," he suggested.

"About goddamn time, too. I need to speak with her," I whispered.

I knew full well these geniuses had never done any fieldwork – not even Emmett. He is a freshly graduated student and will begin his fieldwork with me this summer.

There were many fine historians in this room today, but I was the only one who had any archaeological experience. I was the outsider here, the rebel, a target for the bickering and backbiting and bloodless warfare these brilliant bastards indulged in with all their hearts and souls.

Most never set foot outside classrooms, Museums, _or_ Libraries. They were masters of dead languages and deep thoughts. I acted while they pondered, and many distrusted me for it: some outright hated me. But I'd been invited, and I came. I'd put myself in the lion's den, and relished it. In fact, I felt right at home.

"You're Masen, yes? _Doctor_ A. Edward Masen?" Crowley asked behind me.

_So much for the roast beef_.

"We were introduced not an hour ago," I reminded the Brit.

"I've heard of you," I wasn't sure if this gangly man was being belligerent or not. "You're an excavator, right? A digger? Like Schliemann? I have a question for you." Okay maybe this asshole is being belligerent.

"I'm a digger. And my doctorate's in history – from Bowdoin, if that's what you were going to ask next," I retorted quickly.

"A fine institution," he said. "For America," he added, the amused twinkle never leaving his eyes. "I…well, I've heard that you…"

"_Yes_?" I urged, aware that my tainted reputation was about to be called into question once again. Anger tightened in my gut, but I fought to keep my expression bland.

I must not have been successful since Crowley suddenly changed his question, swallowed hard and asked, "I was wondering, Doctor, what exactly does the 'A_' _in A. Edward Masen stand for?"

"Azrael," a sultry low voice spoke from behind me. "His first name is Azrael. Dr. Masen was named for the Angel of Death."

I had expected her. I was prepared for this moment. I had recognized her step.

She did not wear perfume, but I could imagine exactly the scent of desert rose and sandalwood that would define her if she did. Yet I found myself difficult to turn and face Isabella Swan in such a civilized setting. Our meetings were never meant to be civilized. Nonetheless, I turned: I smiled. At least, I forced my lips into a semblance of a smile – which became real and revealing the instant I saw her.

It was not as if I'd never seen her wear a dress before, it was just that I'd never seen her dressed quite like this. The contours of her breasts and slender waist were emphasized by a form fitting dark blue bodice. It was odd and somewhat exotic to see her in a bustled skirt, with a hint of modest lace at her neck and wrists.

This was the first time I'd ever seen her so fashionably attired; with her mahogany hair neatly pinned up in a swirling confection of a hairdo. The effect emphasized her heart-shaped face and high cheekbones, making her appear aloof and unapproachable.

I'm used to seeing her in a practical bun bent over a pile of books, or with braids tucked under a floppy hat with sweat and dust on her face, or with her breasts unbound and free beneath a thin cotton caftan; her hair flowing down her back in a shimmering invitation for a man to take into his hands.

The Bella dancing in a garden with a scarf around her hips, I understood. But this proper young lady in her corsets and stylish clothing was almost a stranger, and strangely alluring.

Leave it to Bella to surprise me.

The sight of her like this both put me off guard and made me even more wary.

Leave it to Bella to confuse me.

I'd thought myself fully prepared but she was here now, she spoke – and every bit of sense I'd worked so hard to achieve flew out the window.

_Damn-it!_ Perhaps Jasper was right and I couldn't go through with this. This irritating sensual creature made me crazy. She made me –

I replied with a cool voice, "Azrael is an apocryphal archangel, as you well know, Miss Swan."

"I know full well that you are no angel." Her voice was as cool as mine, an ice dagger aimed at my heart, her smile equally dangerous.

Perhaps I imagined the fire in her beautiful brown eyes. Fire of battle, Fire of –

"That's why I wouldn't presume to use the name. It would be flying under false colors."

"Oh, no," she answered. Sarcasm laced her tone, and she arched an elegant eyebrow. She might seem different in her party clothes, but her tart words were deliciously familiar. "Using Azrael would be a warning. But, then, why would you want to warn anyone who crosses your path about how deadly you can be?"

_Nice._

I shrugged. "In the interest of fair play?"

"Do you understand the concept of fair, _Doctor_ Masen?"

"I understand the concept of play," I smiled, and she blushed, and I could have sworn I felt the heat of her skin warming the air around us. Or perhaps this was what always happened when we met, but I only noticed now because we were standing on cold, alien ground. I was dying to stroke her fine, soft skin and let her reaction warm us both. But then, touching her was always the temptation, wasn't it? Especially when she goaded me as she was doing now.

Bella Swan was far from the innocent, scholar-spinster she wanted to pretend to be. She thought her hatred made her safe from me. She wore contempt like armor. But I knew the chinks in the armor, the soft spots – and I could give as good as I got.

_Calm down, you idiot!_ I needed to cool down. I meant to take a step back, but my feet moved forward of their own volition. Damn but Bella made me insane!

*~BPOV~*

I saw him the instant I entered the room. A flash of movement and color to one side. One man among a group standing beneath a stained-glass window, taller than the others, tan and fit with wide, wide shoulders shaping his finely tailored black suit.

Than rays of sun broke free from gray clouds and for an instant they hit him just so, revealing shining bronze hair and the face of a fallen angel. The sight of him in the last place where he ought to be drove me mad.

No, he'd driven me mad years before – proximity to the man simply made the condition worse. Blast it all, why did Azrael Edward Masen have to look at me like that – with all the arrogance in the world shining out of his dark green eyes they might as well be black?

_Black as his heart, _I reminded myself.

I froze as Edward took a step toward me. I fought the urge to put my hands up to push him away, for I'd trained myself never to show any weakness before this man. Yet approaching him at all was the truest sign of the weakness I constantly battled over Edward Masen.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded. _Every time I think I've found a measure of peace, why do you always – _

"Perhaps I came to see you," his words her husky, almost whispered. They stroked my senses like a caress – or a slap. I bit my lower lip and tears stung at the back of my throat, but I did not let him see how his lie hurt.

"Dr. Masen came to present a paper on Stratigraphy," said a burly looking young man with an American accent standing beside Edward. "That's a way of measuring the amount of time a historical site has been buried, miss," he explained to me.

I pretended not to notice Edward's smirk for he expected me to blurt out that I knew exactly what _that_ was to this young scholar.

_Now you have your pupil bating me as well?_

I remembered my promise to Rose and acted ignorant. "Thank you," I said to the young scholar. Edward did a quick double take and stared at me: surprised. I took a step back and bumped shoulders with one of the other members of the group around Edward Masen.

When I turned to apologize I found a familiar face. "Professor Banner."

"How nice to see you again, Miss Swan," he said. "May I introduce my colleagues?" He indicated to the one who'd spoken. "Dr. Emmett Cullen from Boston and this eager-to-meet-you fellow is Professor Tyler Crowley, from London. Dr. Masen you already know. They've worked together in the Middle East," he explained to Crowley.

"Worked together?" he asked genuinely surprised.

"My father and Dr. Masen were _once_ associates," I explained.

Charlie had firm ideas about presenting myself as any sort of historian, linguist, or archaeologist, especially to his colleagues in the field. I felt Edward's scowl without even looking his way. Charlie was certain that any hint of his having allowed a woman to participate in fieldwork would tarnish his reputation and hold me in ridicule. I had promises to Charlie to keep, as well as promises to Rose. In fact the best thing for me to do was to keep my mouth shut altogether.

_I am so exhausted and cannot wait to return to Egypt._ I must remember to practice a rapt look and vapid smile while the learned gentlemen talked. Problem was I'd already made a fool of myself approaching Edward. Well, I would mind my manners from this point on.

"Her father and I are now bitter enemies and rivals," Edward explained, and I saw how his bluntness took Crowley by surprise. Dr. Banner and Dr. Cullen merely nodded. "Professor Swan will be incensed at my accepting an invitation to present a paper at a conference when he plans to be the premier attraction. He will assume that I am here for no other purpose than to somehow ruin his presentation. It will never occur to him that he is not the center of my world and that I have an agenda of my own to pursue."

His gaze was on me the whole time he spoke.

I quivered with fury and the urge to refute what he said about Charlie, except he was right. The man ought to be ashamed for bringing the acrimony out in the open like this. But, of course, he was an American, and an odder, outspoken people I had never encountered.

"Some people find Yankee brashness refreshing." Oh, Lord, why couldn't my vow to keep silent translate into actually doing so?

"You did once," Edward reminded me.

I ignored him. I was actually able to ignore him. I looked at Professor Banner instead. "How is your wife? Your children?" There. A nice, bland, _womanly_ topic that was proper for me to discuss.

"I'm still interested in the subject of your name, Azrael," Crowley asked. I tried not to sigh when I turned my attention to him.

He was smiling: at me. He had nice eyes; in fact, he was altogether an attractive man. Not in the vivid way of Edward Masen, but handsome in his own way. And his eyes held a twinkling mischief that was rather charming, if incomprehensible. Whatever did he find amusing? Since the polite thing to do was smile back, I did.

"What about my name?" Edward practically growled the words. He didn't know what Crowley was getting at, and frankly neither did I.

*~EPOV~*

I didn't know what Crowley was getting at, I didn't like the way he was looking at Bella, and I didn't like the way this whole fucking day was going. And why the fuck is she smiling at him like that?

"What about _my_ name?" I practically barked at him. Perhaps I should chuck it all and go see if Jasper had arrived on the afternoon train. If not, he would surely arrive from Greece tonight.

"Well, if you were named for an angel," he said, "I was wondering if anyone ever called you that? Angel Masen?" He snickered. "Fallen Angel Masen, perhaps."

I didn't like the way Crowley was talking to me but looking at Bella. "Why would you want to know that?"

_The fuck..?_

"Simple curiosity," Crowley shrugged. "Considering your adventures, your reputation. I'd think it's something the ladies might decide to call you. Have you ever been known as Angel to a lady?"

Just watching this fuckery evolve in front of me, I was desperately trying to get some sort of reaction out of Bella, wasn't I? Trying to goad a woman who'd gone from hellcat to pussy cat back into a temper. But why? Because she was gloriously, deliciously, beautiful when she was angry? That's why I do it. I smiled. And why I was going to do it. I was better at this game that Crowley, and far more practiced.

"Known as Angel to a lady? No, never to a lady." I tilted my head to one side and rubbed a finger down the length of my jaw, letting a reminiscing smile lift my lips. "But there was a dancing girl once who called me Angel. Sometimes I wonder what happened to her."

Bella merely looked at Crowley and gave an imperious nod. "We seem to be blocking the buffet table," she said. "Besides, it's time I paid my respects to our host. Good day." And with that, she turned and walked away. We all watched her sway her hips as she left.

I couldn't fucking believe it. She walked away from an argument with me. No anger, no outrage – she _never_ missed a chance to argue with me. What the fuck was the matter with her? What was she up to?

"What an odd young woman," Banner said.

I glared the fuck at him.

Crowley turned a wide smile on Banner. "You mean lovely, I think."

"Beautiful, yes, but…"

Crowley held up a hand. "It's quite all right with me if you don't see the beauteous Miss Swan's charms." He looked around the room, "that narrows the playing field for me."

"What are you talking about?" I asked sharply. I had to ball my hands into fists to keep from grabbing the man and shaking him like a terrier.

Crowley clasped his hands behind his back. "Sir Michael suggested before the party started that the future Mrs. Crowley might be coming to the party." His gaze went inexorably again to Bella. "And there she is: the future Mrs. Crowley."

Blood pounded furiously in my temples. "Isabella….Crowley?" Banner said.

Crowley's nod was emphatic.

I smiled grimly…

_Over my dead -fucking- body! _

**Author's Note: **So..their meeting has finally been fleshed out. What did you think? Thank you to my beta-wifey for her mad skillz, lol.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for your reviews and your time. Please let me know what you think.

*~BPOV~*

"Masen? _Masen_! Here? What could Sir Michael have been thinking?" Charlie's fist landed resoundingly on the table-top in his workroom at the back of the small Museum building, rattling ancient pottery cups and a box of gold and blue faience beads.

He tugged on the fringe of his graying brown hair. "To invite that…that charlatan, that mercenary; to a gathering of serious, sincere, legitimate scholars! What could he have been thinking?"

I faced Charlie's agitation with a certain grim acceptance. With duty in my mind and frankly way to exhausted to discuss the decade-long argument – I replied, "Yes."

_No lady ever called you Angel. No lady?_ I remember how surprised he'd been to discover I was a virgin. _Had_ _been_ a virgin. What else would I have been? It still pained me to remember.

_After my confession, that I wanted him and only desired him. We went to his tent. He undressed quickly, while I managed to unfasten my bodice with shaking fingers. _

_He came to me, bare-chested, dressed only in his drawers, and helped me take off my bodice and skirt while kissing every piece of my body that was exponentially exposed. _

_When I finally undid the final ribbon holding together the top of my shift; he bent his head and brushed his lips across the tops of my breasts. I stood rooted to the earth, unable to do anything but accept the touch of his mouth and hands as they skimmed my body._

_I held on to him; too shaken by fear and desire to do more. I gasped when he touched my nipples. I moaned when he guided me down onto his camp bed. His beautiful body covered my own; his mouth covered mine, hot and demanding, commanding and receiving a frantic response. I had no idea what to do, but need drove me. My sense swam with heady awareness of my own body _and_ his. I touched his bare back and the naked skin of his chest. I felt hardness pressing against my belly and my hand groped toward – _

"What do you mean '_yes'_? What are you talking about? Are you listening to me, Bella?"

I took a deep breath and made myself focus on an agitated Charlie. "I am just as upset by this development as you are, dad." _More so. Far more so._

"And well you should be."

I ignored the accusation in his manner. Charlie had a tendency to be petulant when he was upset. I almost wished I hadn't brought him the news as soon as I'd been able to politely leave Sir Michael's manor house. Perhaps I should have put this off until morning, let Charlie get a good night's sleep after a hard day's work.

I was glad that Charlie hadn't shown up at the gathering, and knew I would find him all by himself at the small Museum in the center of the campus. He was never one for social gatherings.

The workmen were behind schedule, most of the display cabinets had not been delivered, and many of the artifacts to be displayed had yet to arrive from Greece and Egypt. Charlie and I had transported the treasure from Amorgis ourselves. These treasures were Charlie's life, the reason for his becoming chair of the history department and curator of the Muirford Museum. They were the culmination of years of hard, often dangerous, work. And not just for Charlie.

"I deserve this." His fist struck the table again. "I will not allow that tomb robber – "

"Masen styles himself as an antiquities procurer these days," I interrupted. "And freelance archaeologist."

"It's the same thing." He turned a narrow-eyed glare on me, "I won't have you defending the man who dishonored you, girl."

It was at times like these that I regretted confessing all to Charlie when Alice and I returned from Scotland over a year after my tryst with Edward.

I spread my hands out before me in a placating gesture. "I'm not defending him. There is no defense for some of the things he's done."  
"_Some_?"

I hated A. Edward Masen for many reasons, but my loathing of the man was more selective then Charlie's all-consuming distaste for everything Edward was and what he stood for. What little he stood for.

"There are reputable antiquities dealers," I reminded him. "You've used them yourself. Edward has worked for them. His association with them gives him credibility."

"Ha!"

"And he has published several papers in the last few years. His name is in the journals. You know that."

"What is Masen up to? He's up to something. I know it."

I agree. I would ferret out what the slippery, arrogant, ambitious, and unscrupulous _Dr._ Masen was up to, and I'd put a stop to it. But all I said, "He has met Sir Michael. The day the tomb collapsed."

"Don't remind me! That was the worse day of my life! Sir Michael could have been killed. Then where would I be?"

_Edward could have been killed. Then where would _I_ be?_ The same place I am now, limbo; with no way out. But light and fire would have gone out of my world. I hated him, but…

"He's come for the Alexandrian treasure," Charlie declared, and banged the table again. "He's here to steal my treasure."

The Alexandrian treasure he spoke of was treasure indeed. The funerary items included a wreathlike crown of gold oak leaves; several small gold, ivory, and marble statues, a gold chest embossed with the sun symbol of the Macedonian royal family, and a gold wine goblet decorated with magnificently detailed battle scene.

This treasure had not been found in a tomb but buried in a haphazard heap in the ruins of an ancient house on the island of Amorgis, evidence of long-ago grave robbery. Although we had not documentary proof, Charlie was staking his reputation that these looted grave goods could have belonged to no other person then Alexander the Great.

He also believed Edward would steal the treasure if he could. Lord knew the two men had been chasing each other all over the Levant looking for the same thing for years.

A part of me, the very young, naïve part of me, wanted to declare that Edward would never do such a vile thing as try to steal the precious artifacts now that Charlie had won. I firmly pushed my innocent self back into the past where she belonged. Edward – the black eyed devil with the sinner's smile was quite comfortable with bile behavior.

"The treasure is safely hidden," I reminded Charlie. "And Sir Michael has made arrangements for it to be guarded once it is on display."

"Edward is trying to steal the treasure from me and steal away Sir Michael's patronage while he's at it. I struggled along on practically nothing for years until Sir Michael turned up to finance the dig on Amorgis. I have to return there next season. I can't do that without Sir Michael's financing."

"I know that, dad." I sighed. "Sir Michael is a nice man. A reasonable man. He won't – "

"You must be nice to him. You know that, don't you, Bella?" I did not like the look of calculation that came into Charlie's eyes. "You have must be much nicer to Sir Michael. Flatter him more. He likes you. I can tell."

I ignored the sudden change of subject. Edward was the present problem, not Sir Michael – not unless Edward did somehow manage to find a way to influence Charlie's wealthy patron.

I changed the subject as well. "Do not forget you present your monograph on the Alexandrian artifacts tomorrow."

He looked puzzled for a moment. "Yes, yes. Monograph where is the monograph?"

"On the desk in the library at home," I answered patiently. "You will give it careful study _before_ you present it, won't you?" I asked softly trying to mind his feelings. "It's not just presenting the artifacts that are important."

"I know that, girl," he snapped. He sighed and gave me an apologetic, small smile and said, "Go home, Bella."

I left for the small house on the edge of the Muirford campus. As for going home…I hadn't the faintest notion of where that would be.

It was the height of summer yet I had to wear a shawl to fight off the evening chill. I drew it tightly around me and nodded to the guard who stood in the shadows near the door. I walked from the columned portico down the shallow marble stairs fronting the museum entrance. It was a clear night and the moon was still nearly full.

Well, being melancholy never did anybody any good. And I wasn't really feeling melancholy, was I? No, I was feeling restless, which was worse. When I was restless, I was reckless. Add Edward to the mix, and I tended to lose my head. _My heart_. I couldn't afford any wild, outrageous behavior now. Charlie's position depended on it; my sisters' futures depended on it.

I knew the true name of the hot emotion that curled deep within me, and it wasn't restlessness. I still couldn't let it matter. Yet I couldn't help but remember the wide, sensual slash of his mouth, and the way his lips once felt, hard and demanding, on mine. My lips ached with a memory that was a decade old and yet as fresh as –

"_This is going too fast," he said. "I'm too eager. I've never wanted a woman like this." He moaned breathless in my ear. He lifted his head to smile down to me. Then he kissed me again. His lips were so, so sweet, and his tongue so very wicked, teasing and teaching me how a woman and man should kiss._

_The first time I'd seen him, standing on a sandy rise of ground with the sun at his back and his bronze hair unruly and shining, something inside me fluttered and bloomed, and I thought to myself that he looked just like an angel. That was before I even knew his name._

_He was a scholar with large, elegant hands that hardened after a season of sharing the work with the diggers. They were touching me gently, urgently, skillfully. There was nothing soft about him, not anywhere. I was amazed, fascinated, thrilled by all the difference between man and woman as he took my hands in his and showed me where to touch him in turn, and how. I learned the strength and speed he preferred for me to stroke and grasp his _cock_…he had called it. _

_My breathing grew sharp and ragged; the worries and fears of the last days burned away. The world circled down to the two of us, to the sense of touch. I discovered the, oh, so delicious pleasure to touch as it was to be touched. And the sense of taste; there was a tang of salt to his skin, a lingering trace of delta water in which he bathed in, but there was also the sweetness of almonds, and the taste I can only define as Edward. _

_My hands were no smoother than his since I had dug in the hard dirt and stones as much as he had over the summer, but he made me feel beautiful all over when he kissed my palms and stroked his tongue languorously up my fingers. _

_I melted against him, moaning audibly, barely able to breathe for the rush of desire his touch sent through me. _

"_I want…you...Edward." _

"_Mmmm...So do I, Bella...so, so much," he whispered in my ear._

_And sight; I wanted to see all of him in the warm glow of lamplight, to see shadow and light play over his warm skin and to trace those patterns with my lips and fingertips. I would be bold, daring…_wanton_. After all, I was no stranger to the male form. I had learned a lot from statues and pottery. I had seen naked gods and men in stone, but never touched the hot flesh of a living man. I had only this one night. Only a few stolen hours. Only – _

"Oh, do calm down, Bella." I muttered to myself. The man was such an irritant to my peace of mind.

I resolutely turned my back on my mood and looked down the length of the University commons. The scents of dew-damp grass and fresh-turned earth were pleasant, as was the breeze, though I was glad of the shawl wrapped around my shoulders.

Not all the buildings were finished and many of the trees were newly planted, but darkness covered most of the rough edges of the new campus, and moonlight softened what was left.

However, darkness did not cover the sight of a familiar figure moving toward the Museum.

"Alice?" I queried, meeting with my youngest sister. We met beside a hole in the ground and the files of pipes that marked where a fountain would soon be installed. "What are you doing out so late? Have you come to see Charlie?"

"It's not so late." Alice gestured toward the Museum and laughed, "and disturb Charlie? You're the only one who dares."  
Alice and Charlie were not on the best of terms at the moment. Alice was going through a rebellious phase, which Charlie hadn't actually noticed. Considering the tantrum his youngest and favorite daughter had thrown over returning to Scotland; I didn't know how he could remain oblivious.

"I'm sure he would be happy to see you," I said not certain of this at all.

"I'm not here to see him," Alice started speaking really fast – a sign when she was nervous or hiding something. "I felt restless after coming home from Lady Angela's stables, so Aunt Saida said I could bring you a message." She looked around dramatically. "Are we alone?"

*~EPOV~*

Bella's laugh was clear, clean as a crystal bell. I had not heard her laugh like that for a long time – genuine, unguarded, and truly amused. I smiled in response to it as she said, "Of course we're alone."

Concealed in the shadows of a huge oak tree on one side of the Museum lawn, I watched her come down the shallow marble steps. Spotting her distracted me from my examination of the building's security measures. What I had seen of the building so far had impressed me, but her mahogany hair silvered by moonlight impressed me more. There was nothing conscious about Bella's seductiveness. All she ever had to do to catch and hold my attention was simply _be._ The hold she had on me after all these years was infuriating, but fury only added zest and zing.

Alice looked around. "Good. Aunt Saida said I should tell you that Lady Angela's servants were speaking to her about a certain _someone_ with a particular bronzed color hair. _Someone_ Charlie hates. Who should _not_ be here; she said you'd know _who_."

"Edward Masen," Bella said slowly and huskily. _Fuck_! My cock hardened just by her saying my name.

_Damn that woman_!

"I've just come from Sir Michael's house. Edward was there. Good thing Charlie wasn't; there are suits of armor with real swords and axes in the great hall."

Alice giggled. "You saw him? Did you say hello for me? Did you yell at him?"

_Cute kid_.

"Perhaps a little. We're never very nice to each other, he and I," she confessed.

"You should be. I like him. Especially after he saved us from Sheik Haroun."

"He didn't save us; we'd already escaped when he arrived."

"But he brought the horses, and it was easier to escape on horses. He let me keep Saladin."

"Yes, but he stole the Alexandrian papyrus from us, didn't he?" Bella frowned.

"You got it back," Alice retorted.

The deal had been for Haroun's men to sneak into Swan's camp and take the Alexandrian papyrus. That's all I had agreed on. It wasn't _my_ fault Haroun's son decided to take a couple of European females as harem prizes. I certainly hadn't wanted Alice, who was all of twelve at the time, in any danger. It _was_ Bella's fault for being so goddamn fucking irresistible. Who can blame Haroun's son for wanting to keep her as a trophy female in his harem?

"It was Masen's fault we were abducted in the first place. The blasted papyrus has been nothing but trouble for all of us for years."

I nodded in agreement. Bella had won the previous round, but this would be the _final_ round. And it would be mine. Forget the papyrus. This time, I take the treasure. It was desperately important. I was not going to fail.

I closed my eyes at the sudden stab of pain – in my heart, in my gut, and in that withered thing that used to be my conscience. "Not again," I whispered out loud, but so low that not even the passing breeze heard the words. "This time I'll make it right."

"And good thing Charlie never found out about the Haroun incident," Bella said to Alice. "Let's not discuss adventures, shall we?" Bella looked around. I wonder if she felt my presence as much as I feel hers within a certain amount of proximity. "There might be spies out."

"What?" Alice asked. She gestured toward the tree. "Owls?"

I pressed myself close to the rough bark of the ancient tree trunk. I was confident I was hidden, but with Bella it was wise to be cautious.

After a pause Alice asked eagerly, "Did you kiss him?"

Even in the moonlight, I could tell that Bella went pale. I saw her spine stiffen, and almost saw fire in her eyes. "Kiss him?" Her outrage singed me. "Why would I kiss him?"

Good question. And why would I want to kiss Bella Swan? _Because she tasted of honey and fire, and the taste of her lips was as heady as date wine_? Oh, fuck you conscience. Yes, that was reason enough. And she'd enjoy it. Fuck yes. And it would outrage Charlie Swan. There was almost nothing I'd liked better than that. Well…_almost_.

"Because Charlie wouldn't like it?" Alice asked.

That wasn't a good enough reason for her to want to kiss me. Not good enough. I wanted more, much _more_.

"That's not a reason for kissing anyone," Bella answered her sister. "That isn't love, it is exploiting vulnerability."

She sounded very, very sad, and it twisted like a hot knife in my gut.

"But what if you wanted to kiss him?"

"You're too young to know about kissing."

"I'm not. I don't care about kissing, but I know. Rose can hardly wait for her first kiss."

"She can wait."

I don't know whether to smile or wince at Bella's grim tone.

"Charlie doesn't like for her to think about having beaus, you know. He never wants us to grow up. We're supposed to exist to help him find Alexander. That's all he cares about."

_You tell her, Alice_. I was half –tempted to personally cheer Alice on. There were a great many things that needed to be said about Charlie Swan, but Bella wasn't interested in hearing them. And she certainly wouldn't listen to them from me – not that it was my business to tell her.

"You do all the work," Alice went on. "I know you wrote the paper he's going to present, but you won't get any credit. I hate that."

"I help our father." Bella looked around nervously. She put a hand on her sister's shoulder. "What has gotten into you this evening?"

"I hate it here! I want to go back to Cairo or to Amorgis. Anywhere but here. I feel something bad is about to happen or something big is coming. I am restless and tired."

"I know how you feel, darling."

Alice tugged on Bella's arm. "Then why don't we? Why don't we run away?"

I backed away swiftly, not waiting to hear an answer, almost too tempted to join in the conversation. The Swans – _Bella_ – have complicated my life far too much already. I had followed them to Scotland to accomplish one thing; I would get what I came for and go back to Cairo. Back to where I belonged. If Bella was not there – my beautiful, irritating, seductive, challenge – well, let her have a safe solitary life.

But wait a fucking minute…fucking Crowley was on a mission to make her the next fucking Mrs. Crowley! Wait, who am I kidding? Perhaps it was for the best. For both of us.

_But Cairo would be a cold place without her_.

And it was foolish of me to stand here eavesdropping. I needed to have security information for Jasper when he arrived on the ten o'clock train this evening.

It was time I check out the back entrance to the Museum.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note:** Hello again! Thank you for reading! This plot development has taken a lot more research than originally conceived. For starters, thank you dad for lending me your old Atlas. That out of the way – thank you dear readers for your patience and pray that this unfolds beautifully. Lilith617, I appreciate all fairy dust also known as your beta skills. Love ya, sweet tits.

*~BPOV~*

This day was too full of difficulties. Difficult promises, difficult social situations, and difficult men. And now Alice. Charlie dragged us around the Levant almost all our lives, and that had been just fine with both of us. But the land of our birth was as circumscribed as any harem society in the East, and it was a bitter pill for his two adventurous daughters to swallow. I was old enough to accept the necessity, and hoped my youngest sister would adjust.

"We will return to Amorgis in a year or so." I patted Alice's shoulder sympathetically. "I'm sure we will." It was the only reassurance I could give at the moment.

"If you're nice to Sir Michael."

I didn't like what Alice seemed to imply. But, then Alice was fifteen and sometimes pretended to a worldliness she hadn't a clue about. "You have your horse, Saladin. And Rosalie. Aren't you grateful to have the family together again?"

Alice nodded. "I'd rather have us together in Cairo."

"Well, we can't always have what we want." I put my arm around Alice's shoulder. "Let's go home now."

It wasn't a long walk to our house. I made it a brisk one, and stopped at the front gate. I kissed Alice on the forehead. "Go on in," I said. _Be safe and well_.

"Aren't you coming?" Alice asked as I turned back to the gate.

"I forgot something," I answered. "I have to go back to the museum."

"But – "

"Go."

I waited only long enough to see the door shut behind Alice, then turned and briskly followed my instincts back to the center of the campus.

I'd seen very little of the campus, the village, or the countryside since arriving, which wasn't like me at all. Just because I'd been busy with unpacking the house, settling the girls into their new home, and working with Charlie's papers was no excuse for me not to be out and exploring. Yes, yes, I'd promised not to do anything "adventurous" that would embarrass or discredit the Swan name, but I was alone on a dark and lovely night. If this was going to my new home, it was time for me to learn the lay of the land. Not to mention protect what was _mine_.

Besides, it would do me good to work off the agitation that coursed through me, sensitizing my skin, boiling in my blood, and bones and brain. Passion wasn't everything. I'd convinced myself of that years ago. But whenever I saw Edward again I had a great deal of trouble remembering just what was important – or thinking at all, for that matter.

There was a newly planted rose garden behind the museum that reminded me of the one thing I'd enjoyed most about the months I'd spent at Oxford – the lovely gardens. I headed toward it now. I'd always delighted in the seductive sight and scent of roses.

I took a seat on a bench in the garden and turned facing toward the dark bulk of the building. A light shone in the room where Charlie worked. The rest of the windows of the building were dark, as they should be. With my shawl wrapped around me like a veil, I folded my hands in my lap and waited. And remembered back to eight years before.

"_If I'd known it was you I'd have shot you myself!" Those were the words that Edward shouted to Charlie – or possibly to me – as we rode away from the ruins. I couldn't get those words our out of my head as I walked through Cairo's noisy, crowded bazaar. Even the sights and sounds of this place could not distract me from the memories of the poisonous hatred my father held for Edward Masen. Hatred that was apparently returned._

_When I'd asked why I hadn't heard that Edward was in Egypt, Charlie's answer had been, "The man dishonored you. I'm lucky he doesn't brag about it. Or perhaps he does to his thieving friends."_

_I pointed out, without resorting to humiliating tears, that that was no answer. How long had he been back? Was Charlie sure he dealt in stone antiquities? And why hadn't Edward contacted me? I didn't ask that last question, because I knew it was a foolish one._

_Clearly, one night with me had not been important to him. In fact, I knew he'd been disappointed at my inexperience. What had been heaven for me must have been tedious for him. But I knew full well it was wrong to think of those stolen hours as heavenly. As a matter of fact, it was useless to think of them at all. _

_So I concentrated on finding out what Charlie had kept from me for nearly two years._

"_Masen and I argued over the interpretation of what was found at the delta site. You know that. We'd been arguing the day Alice's fever broke. I told him to clear out and he stormed off before you even left the next day. But instead of going back to America, he went to Aleppo to explore the Irbidi ruins with Carlisle Whitlock. You know how that ended up."_

"_Almost everyone was killed."_

"_Masen survived. It's said he threw his lot in with the bandits that attacked Whitlock's camp. When he turned up in Egypt, he was working for Osmani." _

_I was shocked, but Osmani had a reputation for dealing in legitimately acquired antiquities. Mostly. It was said he hardly ever dealt in the fake treasures that were so often peddled to inexperienced collectors._

_Then Charlie added a more damning fact. "Masen is involved with the Haroun tribe."_

_I knew about Sheik Haroun. His whole family had been professional tomb robbers for a hundred generations, possibly longer. They liked to claim they were descendants of the artisans who built the tombs of the pharaohs, so they had better right to despoil them than Western scientists. _

"_The man's gone from being a scientist to a treasure hunter. He's only interested in using history to make a quick profit. He's a thief and a wastrel. He lies and cheats, and consorts with the lowest scum in the Middle East. He likely had a hand in the attack on Whitlock's expedition. And I don't want you to have anything to do with him."_

_The words devasted me. But Edward had also saved us from desert marauders. I had to find out the truth for myself._

_Which was why I now followed Edward through the ancient market of Cairo. I had crossed the river from the small British enclave on Geziria Island on a simple shopping expedition. I was on my way to a bookseller's shop near the north entrance of the Khan el-Kalili market place when I looked up and spotted broad shoulders and a flash of silky bronze hair ahead of me in the crowd. There were quite a few Europeans in Egypt: scholars studying the ruins, merchants, engineers working on the many building projects the Khedive Ismali government hoped would bring the country into the modern world. Many European men came to the Khan el-Kalili, and many of those men were tall and bronzed haired. I could have been mistaken except that I would know the long, lean, graceful form of Edward if the two of them were at the bottom of a well during a total eclipse._

_He headed north, past the bookseller's stall and into the streets where coppersmiths made and sold their wares. I knew very well that more than copper pots were sold in some of the shops in this part of the city. I suspected where Edward was headed, and my heart cracked a bit more. I would have liked to turn back, but I had to know if what Charlie claimed was really true._

_I wore robes and veils rather than the corsets and bustles and skirts that would mark me as an outsider in the streets of Cairo. I felt safer this way anonymous, free. It would cause a scandal of course, if anyone ever discovered I moved about the city dressed as a native woman, but it was also a godsend for me to be able to observe Edward without any fear of being recognized. Charlie had forbidden me to speak of him or to him, and Edward had certainly made no effort to contact me. _But he thought I was in Scotland,_ a forlorn voice in my head pointed out. _And the post is delivered in Scotland. _Besides, I had thought I'd resigned myself to never seeing him again _before_ I went to his tent. Afterwards, once I felt him deep inside me, once he made me his, I had felt completely different – but the damage had been done._

_I put that out of my mind. I tried not to think at all, merely to observe. I followed Edward to the shop of Osmani the coppersmith, who was better known for his second occuptation as a dealer in dubiously acquired antuiquities. I moved to finger shining rows of copper pots and coffee urns while Osmani ignored me to effusively greet and deal with the foreigner who had arrived a few steps ahead of me. The men made no effort to hide their dealings from me._

_I watched, forgotten in a corner, my face hidden behind a veil, while Edward took a seat opposite Osmani. A servant brought small cups of strong, fragrant coffee, and the men dickered. Edward slouched with a graceful ease, his wide shoulders and elegant back betraying not a line of tension. His wide mouth curled into a careless, devastating smile as he took small, precious, ancient objects one by one from a leather saddlebag, unwrapped them, and placed them on a table before the black market antiquities dealer. Osmani fingered the objects while the servant brought more coffee and cakes._

_Eventually the men agreed on a price. Edward took his money and left, brushing against me as he passed me on the way from the shop._

_It was true._

_Edward Masen had fallen from man of science to common thief. I had never been so hurt in my life._

_Something in me died, and anger as hot as the fire of hell took its place. I bought a copper tray I didn't want and left._

Several years later, I would smash the same tray over Edward's head.

What I had not known at the time was that he had somehow recognized me and followed me back to the bookseller. It turned out he was looking for the ancient documents written on papyrus I bought almost on a whim from the bookseller that day.

That day was the start of everything that led to this night, this garden, and my waiting to see if Edward Masen would come sneaking around the back side of the museum specifically built to house the treasure he and I had been vying for nearly a decade.

For a while I had only the scent of roses and the silvery moonlight for company. Then I felt it. That delicious electric current that ran up and down my blood stream. I heard the faint swish of cloth, the lightest tread of footsteps – but the sound came from behind me rather than the direction I watched.

My heart tightened, but I did not let my breath catch. I smiled. "I'm glad you decided not to take me by surprise." If A. Edward Masen wanted to move silently, he would have.

Edward took a seat on the bench beside me. "You should have brought a chaperone," he whispered. "What will people say if we are seen together?"

I pointed toward the lit window. "Charlie is only a few feet away. I'll scream for him if you like."

"Don't bother. What made you come back?" He gave me that confident crooked smirk.

"Protecting what's _mine_, of course."

"Of course."

I firmly kept my gaze on the building before me, kept my hands folded decorously in my lap. _Concentrate, Bella_. I couldn't help but be aware of his size, of the warmth of his body. It was not a large bench. The hard, hot muscles of his thigh brushed against my skirts. I ignored my response to his nearness, and answered, "I thought I saw someone lurking in the shadows when Alice and I started for home. I see I wasn't imagining things."

"You are a perceptive and clever woman, Isabella."

I was not fooled by this compliment, even if he spoke with less sarcasm than usual. "Magnificent building, isn't it? I trust you've had a good look at it."

From the corner of my eye I saw him run his hand down the length of his jaw. It was a gesture I'd seen many times, which didn't stop me from still wanting to trace the same path with my own fingers. It was a gesture I allowed myself only once, and that would have to do_. Holy Jesus, did I want to do it again_. I had to bite my lower lip to stop an audible moan

"Been out for a stroll," he said in his laconic American drawl. "Stretching my legs, having a look at the whole campus." He chuckled. "Who knows? Maybe I'll be offered a teaching post here. Have to see if I like the look of the place, don't I?"

At another time I might have pointed out hotly that no one in their right mind would offer him a position, but I didn't rise to the bait. He seemed to frown at my answer. "The papyrus won't do you any good now, Edward. Why don't you let it go?"

He stretched his long legs out in front of him. The movement stirred a branch on the nearest rosebush, sending a wisp of heady, sweet aroma into the air around us. I had a great deal of trouble not closing my eyes and breathing in the mingled dark scents of the night and the beautiful angel-man beside me.

"I'm not looking for papyrus anymore. It stopped being important to me." He sounded brisk and confident. "I've accepted an invitation to present a paper at the conference. That's why I'm here."

I laughed softly. "Tell me another one, _Dr. Masen_."

"I've changed, Bella. Reordered my priorities. I almost died a few months back. You might recall the incident."

My insides clenched with terror even at the memory of it – which was ridiculous. The man was here beside me, huge and healthy and out to make trouble, as always. "I recall some minor accident," I lied.

"You didn't visit me while I recovered," he whispered almost sounded genuinely disappointed.

"I did." His eyes shot up and looked at me surprised. "I brought you flowers while you were unconscious. I like you when you were unconscious."

"I make much less trouble that way," he smiled. "By the time the headaches subsided and the bones knit, you'd left Amorgis. I heard you returned to Cairo to put together a museum collection for Muir's university.

"I – _Charlie_ did."

"Tell me another one, _Miss Swan_."

I frowned.

"It was so pleasant on Amorgis that I stayed on and wrote a few papers," he continued.

"So I heard."

"I have decided to revive my academic career. Which is why I am here."

"Please. We both know that you have followed Charlie to Scotland."

"Who said I followed_ him_? That's a lovely building, by the way," he added before I could protest. "I've spent quite some time admiring it this evening."

"I'm sure you have."

"You're sounding particularly smug, Miss Swan."

"I? When do I ever sound smug? Why?"

"When? Why?" He laughed, and the sound was so caressingly soft and wicked it sent a shiver right through me, right in my center. "Whenever you think you've gotten the better of me, _that_ is why and when. Not that you ever have – at least not for very long," he added.

I couldn't help it. I was smiling with him. This Edward, this electric dialogue, and this feeling I missed. "Who is being smug now? You're the most arrogant, self-deluded creature I have ever met." I sighed and looked right into his beautiful forest green eyes. "But I am glad to see you looking healthy again."

"Thank you," he answered. He said every syllable with more meaning in the two words than either of us were comfortable with. "I suffer from Yankee self-assurance and faith in my own talent. I won't hide my light under a bushel – like _some_ people I could name. Alice is right, you know."

I shot to my feet. "You were eavesdropping!"

"Yes." He tugged on my shawl, pulling me back to the bench, into his lap. "Hush. There are guards at the doors."

"I know that. Who do you think is responsible for them being there?"

"Me. You did it for me."

The smile in his voice was infuriating. I struggled to get off his lap but only managed to touch his thighs and feel the delicious muscles flinch at my touch. He whispered into my ear, "If we get into a shouting match we'll be overheard, interrupted, and you'll be the one embarrassed. I know all about your Aunt Lauren. And of course we don't want to do anything to besmirch daddy's reputation. Let's walk." He stood us up. I was so glad he put me on my own two feet. I am certain that my knees would give due to his proximity. "Neither of us likes being in one place for too long, Bella."

I considered for a moment, the reluctantly replied, "There are some things I can't argue with you about."

"I know. It is a shame."

"But not many." I tried not to smile when I said it but I didn't succeed. Well, it was dark, he wouldn't see my blush. I turned and marched stiffly from the fragrant shelter of the little garden to the front of the museum building. He followed, his large shadow running ahead of me in the bright moonlight, back to the cobbled walkway that ran down the green center of the university commons. Well, what would eventually be a long, manicured swath of lawn. Someday soon the grounds would be bustling with students, faculty, and staff – none of them women. None of them, me. Still, it would be a proud achievement and a beautiful place.

*~EPOV~*

I enjoyed walking behind Bella; I always did. It didn't matter what she wore or where we were, I'd appreciate the unconsciously seductive sway of her hips and the decisiveness of her stride anywhere. I spent a lot of time trying to forget that about her, or at least ignore her, but my body wouldn't let me. Ten years passed, and a lot of poisoned water had flowed under the bridge, but I never stopped wanting her. I always remembered when I made her mine. When I claimed what was mine. I cannot forget those delicious hours I spent making her mine.

"I missed you," I said, though I had not meant to speak at all. She glanced briefly at me surprised at my surprised look. "Really. I meant it, Isabella."

This time she swung all the way around, hands on her hips, chin defiantly raised. Her looked sizzled along my nerve endings. Those goddamn lips were pouty and I fought the urge to reach out and put my hands on her shoulder, pull her to me, and kiss the skepticism clean out of her. I held up my hand in a placating gesture rather than let it do what it wanted and touch her.

"Miss me, indeed," she claimed indignantly.

"It's true. I have a soft spot for you" I looked her up and down, and a slow grin spread over my face. My body reacted as it usually did. "Well, maybe it is more hard than soft."

"Disgusting." She strode off in front of me again. "As usual."

"You like me this way."

"Yes. It constantly reminds me how despicable you are."

I was, indeed, despicable. There was no fucking denying it.

I glanced back once at the museum. Getting inside was going to be harder than I hoped; the windows were set up high and were rather small. There were only two entrances that I was able to detect, both guarded. Now that Swan knew I was in Muirford, security would no doubt be stepped up. Of course, breaking in wasn't the only answer, it was just the easiest.

When the path widened a bit I moved to walk beside Bella. Being next to her reminded me that she was small and slender; made her seem fragile and in need of protecting. Any fragility was a trick of light and shadows, right? She was tough as nails, resilient, and capable. Isabella Swan could stand her ground against tigers, or at least a herd of stampeding camels…which had not been my fault. She didn't need anyone, and didn't want anyone, least of all me.

Especially not me.

What I was going to do was going to hurt her. I had to retrieve the treasure. That was how it had to be. She'd survive. It was important to me that she survive. How important, I couldn't tell her. Hell, I couldn't tell myself, because I didn't want to know.

"You're being too quiet," she said suddenly.

_Oh fuck_. I almost jumped at the sound of her voice. "Which leads you to suspect that I'm up to something."

"I'm not in the least suspicious; I'm perfectly sure."

"Are you claiming to be per – " I came to an abrupt halt in front of the half-finished brick wall of one of the buildings. I automatically to a protective step closer to Bella. "What's that?"

The moon was so bright that the stark slashes of white paint defacing the wall were almost luminescent. I made out angular lettering and crudely drawn designs.

"Greek," Bella said staring at the graffiti for a few moments. "And very bad Greek, at that."

I looked from the vandalized wall to Bella. If she didn't notice that we were somehow holding hands now_, I_ wasn't going to bring it up. "Looks like we're not the only ones out tonight." I need to find Jasper, now.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **Hello and thank you for taking the time to read this labor of love. Welcome new readers; love that you are placing this fic on your alerts. A huge wet smooch to my beta-wifey Lilith617 for being so supportive and kick-ass with suggestions.

*~BPOV~*

"The students have barely begun to arrive. But the town is crowded with all sort of unsavory types." Aunt Lauren put down her teacup, and looked around the hotel dining room suspiciously, her gaze pausing at a nearby table.

I deliberately did not follow her gaze. I knew very well that Aunt Lauren concentrated her attention on where Edward Masen sat with a pair of distinctly foreign, to her any way, companions.

One man; eagle-beaked, wildly exotic, and young, looked at his companion to his left with…was it admiration? I could not place the sentiment. His companion could not be much younger than he. With curling dark blonde locks, piercing blue eyes, and dressed impeccably. He had a commanding presence, and casual confidence.

Edward was animated when speaking to him. Yet this young man appeared calm with the fierce dialogue Edward was conversing. I knew that Aunt Lauren was upset because the trio commanded one of the best tables in the room, overlooking the view of the terrace, the woods, and the deep lock beyond.

Aunt Lauren was unaware that I was with Edward when I first saw the graffiti. I ran the thumb of my left hand over the back of the right, the memory of Edward lifting it to his lips, saying, _"I think this is where we part ways,"_ fresh in my mind, and on my skin. It had shaken me down to my shoes. And, then he was gone, into the night.

_Blast the man!_

"Americans, "Aunt Lauren sneered. "The worst foreigners of all, if you ask me." Alice rolled her eyes and Rose nodded in agreement. I placed my hands in my lap. At least Aunt Lauren had the decency to speak quietly.

The room was full of people having breakfast, many of them fitting my Aunt's rather broad definition of foreigner, but the chances of Lauren's rudeness being overheard were minimal. The clink of silver and china, and the murmur of conversation, ensured a degree of privacy for everyone in the large room.

There was a vase of flowers at the center of the table, and I had to look around it to get a good look at my sister. Rosalie looked fresh and bright this morning; beautifully dressed in a simple white frock. I felt grump and under slept, and knew I would blush if I let myself remember my dreams that had haunted what little restless sleep I'd had. It was all Edward's fault of course. My gaze went to him without volition. But I managed to look past him, out the window, to watch the mist swirl through the blue-green pines at the edge of the water. The setting really was lovely-and peaceful, but for the tension I'd brought with me that centered on the bronze-haired man seated nearby. As far as I could tell, he was completely unaware of my presence. I should be glad of that, but perversely, I was not.

Alice was in odd form today. She kept looking at me as if she was expecting something. She was unhappy with me since she did not want to join us for breakfast at Aunt Lauren's invitation. I had insisted and she reluctantly complied. Rosalie was quite pleased at being able to see and be seen by the younger men staying here. I had noticed Rose exchange a shy look and smile with someone at Edward's table.

I felt exhausted but wanted to attend the day's conference proceedings. I believed Professor Crowley was on the schedule to read a paper. I think Rosalie might like to be in the historian's audience, too. But most of the day was to be spent in Aunt Lauren's room with a local dress-maker, doing the final fitting of the gowns that had been ordered for the upcoming Highland Ball. I didn't have much interest in my own ball gown; but, was keenly aware that Rosalie would look lovely in hers. Her gown had been ordered from a pattern book of an exclusive London shop especially for the occasion. I was glad that Charlie had not balked at the expense. In fact, he'd been insistent that all three of us looked our best; that we make a good impression for Sir Michael.

I was not listening as Aunt Lauren rambled mostly to Rosalie. "But I do think the Americans made a terrible mistake in insisting on leaving the Empire. I see no reason that we deal with them after their being so rude."

"Some Americans can indeed be…difficult to deal with," I said, sounding agreeable. Alice stifled a giggle.

It really was annoying to be so aware of Edward. The dining room was large, yet seemed small and enclosed, intimate even. It was bordering claustrophobic compared to the open spaces I was most used to encountering the American treasure hunter. Edward didn't belong in a civilized setting; he filled it up with his size and vital energy. The tame indoors made him seem large, somehow concentrated.

"Oh bother," I muttered, and picked up a currant scone from the basket in front of me. I concentrated on buttering the roll, then taking a few bites. The room was buzzing.

"Just what did the vandals write?" Alice asked. Aunt Lauren shot me a warning glare.

"Something rude and unfit for your delicate ears, I'm sure. Of course, it was in some incomprehensible foreign tongue."

"Greek," I broke in. "The words were in Greek. Most of the people in this room _can_ read Greek." I retorted, practically snarling.

"Even I can read Greek, Aunt Lauren." Rosalie chimed.

"With a Greek historian father, I think we better know at least a bit. What did the graffiti say, Bella?" Alice leaned closer, eyes wide with excitement, and whispered. "Something wicked?"

"Alice!" Aunt Lauren declared.

"_Put the candle back_," I answered, ignoring my Aunt.

Rosalie tilted her head to the side and mouthed the words I had spoken. Her brows drew down over her pretty brown eyes. "Are you sure that is what it said, Bella?"

"As near as I could make out. _Put the_ something _back_, at any rate."

I had no idea where the crowd had come from, but all of a sudden there were men all around the table. In other circumstances I would be reaching for a weapon in case of impending attack, but such a response might be a slight overreaction in the dining room of a Scottish resort hotel. Aunt Lauren certainly would have something stern to say if I was responsible for getting bloodstains on the tablecloth. I smiled at the thought. Still, I had noticed that heavy a silver butter knife was clutched in my right hand, and made no attempt to put it down.

I rose slowly speaking as I did, "Professor Crowley, Professor Carter." I supposed I was usurping Aunt Lauren's place when I spoke first, but I was used to performing the duties of the head of the household.

"Good morning, Miss Swan," Professor Crowley smiled warmly.

"How do you, do?" Aunt Lauren pronounced gravely.

"Very well, Ma'am," he grinned broadly at me. "Carter and I," he said, gesturing toward the young man at his side. "We were wondering if you, your Aunt, and sisters, would like an escort to the lecture hall this morning."

"There is seating available in the upper gallery," Professor Carter spoke up. "You ladies might find the opening ceremonies interesting."

"We are not attending any academic ceremonies," Aunt Lauren told the men.

"Therefore, we do not require an escort." Her tone was frosty, her disapproval at the young men's approach quite evident. People at other tables were watching us. The setting had become most inappropriate for single women to hold a conversation with single men. Especially, those whom they had such _short_ acquaintance.

I favored Crowley's approach.

"When does the ceremony begin?" I asked, knowing very well when the conference began. I had helped draw up the schedule, but promised to remain discreetly in the background.

"At ten o'clock, Miss Swan." Carter replied. His gaze was on Rose; his eyes filled with puppy-like longing. I noted that Rose was not reciprocating, but gazing past Carter to where Edward and his colleagues sat.

I consulted my gold pocket watch. "We have plenty of time before the dressmaker arrives. I, for one, would like to see the opening of the conference."

*~EPOV~*

_What the devil is the woman doing here?_

Distracting me, as usual. I can't even have a meal and conspire in peace. I had serious, dangerous business to discuss this morning with serious, dangerous men.

My coffee and eggs were cold, and British toast was _always_ cold along with the weather. _And_ to make matters worse, the sense of burning up with fever only heightened every time I looked her way. She looked as cool as ice herself amid the china, silver, and linens. Remote as a marble statue of a goddess. Only I couldn't make up my mind whether she was a goddess of desire, or remote virginal Artemis: the man-hating goddess of the hunt. I'd rather think of her as Artemis instead of Aphrodite.

I'd touched Bella last night, and had had the briefest taste of her soft skin for the first time in years.

_Why had I done that?_

I certainly hadn't meant to. But the moon was bright, and she'd been so vibrant, and beautiful in the pale, silvery light. For a few minutes it had all seemed like a dream, and I was well aware of what I did with Bella in my dreams. I'd managed to do no more than brush my lips across the back of her hand last night. No harm done, _right?_

_Wrong_. It had left me aching for more than a taste. I was a fool, and Bella was no idol of a dead religion but a living, breathing, sensual –

What the fuck did Crowley think he was doing? Smiling at her like that when he didn't think she was paying attention. Who the hell did he think–

"Edward?" Jasper's voice was low and menacing. "Are you awake, man?" He asked. His sharp Greek tongue demanding.

I didn't show any alarm, but turned hard. Glaring at the three gentlemen seated with me. I ignored the intense expression of dislike from Spiros, the younger man. He wasn't a bad kid, but he was so sincere he set my teeth on edge. I wondered if I'd been half as idealistic as he when I was young. Though now I remained dangerously idealistic.

Emmett shifted in his chair, wrought with frustration. He clearly wanted to choke him as well.

"Have you found the treasure yet, Edward?" Jasper asked. "Has _your_ Bella told you? You said she was the one to concentrate on."

Jasper's demeanor changed completely from menacing to casual in a matter of seconds. It fascinated me that this young man could command such control of his emotions. His father, my mentor, Carlisle Whitlock would have undoubtedly been proud. Like Carlisle, he was intelligent and cautious. Dangerously necessary attributes in the desert. Jasper was but ten years old accompanying his father and I, when Apoloduro's tribe raided and killed everyone. Everyone but him and I. Between the both of us we pulled Carlisle away from the campsite and danger. But we too were horribly injured, and we were too late.

Carlisle had died in his son's arms. Whispering in his ear in Greek. Jasper and I were both shot and were left for dead at the campsite. On their way to the nearest oasis, Osmani's men traveled passing our campsite and found the only two survivors. Jasper and I. They saved and restored our lives because of _Jasper_. Jasper had a mark; an ancient tribal tattoo that Carlisle had neglected to tell me about.

"I arrived in Muirford yesterday morning." I jerked a thumb at Spiros. "Your boy here arrived before I did."

"My duty is to keep watch on the Swans. But they were two days ahead of me. I have not been able to get inside their precious museum."Spiros sneered.

"And you won't," I retorted.

Jasper put a hand on his associate. "This way is best for our purposes. Dr. Masen_ is_ necessary."

"Dr. Masen is your fall guy," I smirked, leering at Spiros. I knew that neither man understood what I meant. I wouldn't bother to explain neither.

Emmet just snickered at them. I would be the fall guy only if I got caught, and I had no intention of getting caught.

"I don't need any help with distractions and diversions." I looked to Jasper, though my words were clearly meant for Spiros.

"The vandalism was a stupid move. Why call attention to yourselves after hiding out for twenty-one hundred years?"I asked, still dumbfounded.

"Good God man, you could have used _proper_ Greek," Emmett chided in with a boisterous laugh.

"It was not I!" Spiros slapped his palm on the table, and received a warning look from Jasper. "I did nothing!" He continued with quiet fierceness.

"We will discuss this in private." Jasper replied through gritted teeth.

I nodded, having made my point. I didn't need to push it. It was up to Jasper to keep _his_ people in line.

"I've only had time to have a look at the outside of the museum," I told them in hushed tones. "No one's allowed inside yet. They're planning a grand opening ceremony on the last evening of the conference."

"That cannot be allowed," Jasper stated flatly. "It will not happen."

I ran a finger down my freshly shaved jaw.

"No one but the Swans, know what the museum will contain. There's a great deal of buzz and rumor about Swan's artifacts, but its all conjecture. Swan has made no announcement about having found anything from the time of Alexander the Great. He's scheduled to read his monograph last.

"And there's no description of what it's to be about in the conference catalog. Most people assume that the museum will house Egyptian antiquities, with maybe a few pieces from the Helenistic era. Swan's playing his hand very close to his vest. He wants to upstage Schliemann, is my guess, especially with people like Divac and DeClerq here to impress. Sir Michael has given Swan carte blanche in the design of the collection."

Jasper nodded, and his full lips actually curved in a slight smile. It was a grave, serious smile, but it made me feel as if I'd earned his faint expression of approval.

"I think you have learned quite a lot for having been in Muirford for only a day."

"I'll keep up the good work," I answered as my gaze drifted back toward Bella. "I'll get the Alexandrian treasure for you."

"You had better," Jasper leered before leaning closer to whisper in my ear. "Or your woman's life is forfeit."

"She's not my woman to forfeit." I answered. In no way showing Jasper the chill his threat caused me. Nor did I show that I was annoyed with Bella for having gotten me into this.

"She has been _yours_. Even before I met you." Jasper whispered, a devious grin pulling at his lips.

_Good Lord, she still has my watch_!

I saw it clearly from across the room. I wanted to grab her and shake her and demand why she'd kept it; why she tortured me with the memory. I stared, noticing the way her thumb slid caressingly over the gold case before she tucked the watch back into her skirt pocket. Her subtle movement caused the urge within me to shift from wanting to shake her, to wanting to kiss her first and ask questions later.

_God_, how I wanted her fingers to touch me the same knowing way they touched that cold, lifeless metal. It was torture indeed to say nothing, do nothing.

_**Four years ago**_

"_Does your father know you led the assault in the fort?" _

_The sun had been beating down hot and bright. I turned my face up to the fierce blue sky before lowering my gaze slowly, taking in the sight of Bella. Her beautiful breasts and hips were outlined and emphasized by the cut of the men's clothing she wore. Bella's hair was bound in a sloppy bun at the nape of her neck. And she wore a wide-brimmed hat, along with her favorite rifle snugly fit within her hands. Grime smudged her blush, and disapproval filled her eyes. I didn't dare tell her how beautiful she was. _

_Or thank her for saving me from this prison._

_Because she wouldn't believe either._

_She hadn't believed anything I had said or done since that day in Cairo a couple of years ago, the day I found her spying on me while I was doing a little spying of my own. We both discovered a clue to finding Alexander's tomb that day. And the chase had begun._

"_Does you father know you were about to be beheaded, Bella?"_

"_My father and I don't speak."_

"_With good reason. Father's wishes aren't always _that_ important. You should learn that."I replied rather smugly. _

"_I help my father. He's been in London, presenting a paper. Actually, he should be arriving with the mail carriers today."She retorted._

_Of course, Charlie Swan was either the stupidest man in the world or he turned a conveniently blind eye to whatever Bella had to do to keep him working on his scheme to find the tomb of Alexander. Swan didn't love his children: he loved Alexander the Great._

"_And what are you doing _here_?" I gestured around the courtyard. It was not a quiet place. It was full of gun smoke, dead rebels, a swarm of victors, and released prisoners. The looting was already well under way._

"_Sheik Khamir's followers raided one caravan too many. The local villagers, tribesmen, and regular brigands had enough. They formed a coalition and asked if the English and their guards digging at the tomb outside the Sakara oasis would help them get rid of Khamir. Since they certainly couldn't trust the Khedive government to help them. _

"_Since some of our diggers coming from Cairo were hurt when the last caravan was attacked, I decided to help the locals get rid of Khamir. I heard Khamir was holding a Yankee _ferengi_, and assumed it was you." She added completely cool and casual._

_What kind of creature can be so steady with that kind of fucking explanation and be so casual?_

This woman would be the end of me.

_I couldn't help but grin like an idiot. "Did you come to save me then, Bella?"_

"_Don't be ridiculous, _Edward_. So…pray tell, _how_ did you end up in Khamir's prison?"_

"_He offered to sell Osmani some Eighteenth Dynasty artifacts. I came to authenticate them." Her lips thinned with disapproval as I spoke; her nostrils flared. She really was beautiful when she was angry. _

_I shrugged, "When Kamir wanted guns in exchange for the treasure I balked. He decided to lock me up while I thought about it." _

_After three days of working on the lock I had broken out of my cell about the same time the attack began. I'd managed to make the assault short and successful by opening the gates of the fortress for the attackers. I'd left the small box of tiny, ancient gold statues I'd placed concealed near the fortress entrance, and I needed to get back to it before a looter got there first…or worse, _Bella_._

"_Now I suppose you'll take the artifacts and go back to that thief Osmani?"She asked, venom lacing her words. _

"_That's what he pays me for."_

"_Scum." _

_The word was so vehement she might as well have spat on me. Her assumptions didn't make me anxious to explain why I had to work with Osmani from time to time._

"_I do real research as well, Bella." I said, defending myself despite my annoyance at her and the fact that we were standing in the midst of chaos. _

_Several frightened, rider-less horses were wheeling about the courtyard. I eyed a fine white gelding as a possible future mount. Bella didn't say anything only watched disapproving._

"_You better get home before Daddy shows up. Wouldn't want him to discover you have a life of your own."_

"_Home? Father?" She touched her forehead, than looked distractedly around the riotous scene. "Yes. Do you know what time is it? The ferry with the mail courier should arrive same time as Charlie."_

_I laughed, than dug my fingers into a deep secret pocked in my vest. A pocket that Khamir's men failed to discover when they had searched me. I brought out my gold pocket watch, the one my father had given me when I graduated. I tossed the watch to her, and she caught the heavy gold, fumbling slightly. _

"_Keep it," I said, rather than thanking her for the rescue. I rose abruptly, and without a second glance I turned from Bella and ran. Bounding upon the back of the white horse I had chosen earlier. She called after me as I rode from the courtyard, but shouting and distant gunfire covered her words._

Amazed, I stared. Her small fingers playing with the rounded face of the watch I had given her so long ago.

No, she might not be _my_ woman, but she is certainly _not_ Crowley's.

I rose in a swift, fluid movement, throwing my heavy linen napkin on the table, and strode across the room to try to intercept Crowley and Carter who had been on their way to Bella's table. Emmett, Jasper, and Spiros followed in tow.

I was a man on a mission. Bella my target.

**Author's Note:** There will be raining men at the Swan table, more mysteries revealed, and more…Jasper *_sigh_*. I'd like to thank Lilith617 for making my words look pretty and slapping me silly when I'm out of line. Girl, I am so glad I found, cyber-stalked, and bullied you into being my beta. Also a big boobie-grope to Brits23 for all her advice. Thanks again for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

**A**** Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **Hello and thank you for your time. As promised, mysteries are gradually being unveiled. A gigantic thank you goes to my beta-wifey Lilith617. I possibly might have made her eyes bleed and bruise with the slop I submitted to her. Thanks, luvvie - I heart you!

*~BPOV~*

Edward was glaring at me. I struggled not to let my awareness of him show, but I found his nearness even more disconcerting than usual.

_You're too big_, I thought. _Too blasted alive for the room to contain, you_.

How could I be aware of anyone else when Edward's presence swooped over me like the shadow of a great black Horus hawk? I forced myself to smile at Professor Crowley. But before I could say anything, Edward wedged himself forward and clapped his hand, not too gently, on Crowley's shoulder.

"Crowley, Carter. Good to see you." He exerted more pressure, turning Crowley away from the table.

"Have you met my good friend, Jasper Whitlock; from the Bureau of Antiquities in Athens?" Crowley, Carter, and Mr. Whitlock dutifully shook hands.

"And who is your other friend?" Rosalie spoke up suddenly, curiosity lacing her words. I watched, perplexed as she moved around the table, and held out her hand toward the unnamed man with the burly stature and contagious smile.

"Emmett," the burly American young man replied, his attention on no one but Rosalie.

"I am Emmett Cullen, pleased to have made your acquaintance, _Miss_." He said as he took her proffered hand.

"Rosalie Ariadne Swan," she replied meekly, hating her Mythological Greek inspired name.

_Oh, dear_.

I glanced from my dazed looking sister to the equally dazed-looking young man, before glancing quickly at Edward.

_True love_.

We both seen it, acknowledged its obviousness. I turned to Aunt Lauren, curious as to how my staunchly British relative was taking this new development, only to discover Alice's utter display of shock with our sister Rosalie's demeanor.

"_Alice_?" I asked, almost in a whisper, trying to divert her staring.

"Are you a student at the university?" Rosalie asked Emmett expectantly; ignorant of the stares she was receiving. "Will you be here for years?"

"Yes. I mean, no," he answered his eyes shining. "I have been offered a teaching post by Sir Michael."

"Then we'll be seeing a great deal of each other," she said confidently, her mind made up.

"But not anymore today," Aunt Lauren sneered, putting herself between my sister and the incredibly handsome young man.

"Azrael," Alice squealed, hugging Edward warmly. "I have missed you. Saladin fairs well at Lady Angela's stables. You must visit!" Edward gave a most warm excited smile to Alice.

"Little Alice Swan. It is so good to see you. Scotland has been good to you. You have blossomed beautifully my dear girl." Edward said, looking down upon the small girl, "I am glad that your father let you bring your horse to your home land."

Alice giggled as she stepped from Edward's embrace, handing her gloved hand to the serious blonde man beside him.

"Hello," she whispered shyly, chagrin creeping across her cheeks.

"Alice Swan, Jasper Whitlock." Edward introduced.

The serious young man took Alice's hand without diverting his eyes from hers and kissed her gloved hand whispering something, unintelligible. It appeared to have sounded Greek. Strangely, Alice nodded knowingly, as her blush increased.

Jasper Whitlock continued a grim face and continued to stare at her; a look that would have startled anyone with fright, but Alice continued smiling to the point of giddiness.

I backed Alice away from the table, my hand firmly applied to her upper arm. "Excuse us, gentleman, but our dressmaker will be here at any moment."

"Yes, my dear, my thoughts exactly," Aunt Lauren promptly agreed.

"But, you said – "Crowley began and Edward glared through him, stopping him completely.

"But, of course. A dressmaker's appointment is far more important to you young ladies than a day of dry speeches," Carter cut in graciously as he consulted his pocket watch. "For myself, I dread the idea of being late."

"We won't keep you, then." I said, taking both my sisters by the arm, shepherding them out of the dining room.

*~EPOV~*

I looked after a departing Bella, bewildered.

_She let Carter live_.

He's insulted her intellect at least twice now and she's let him live.

_Bella, what's gotten into you_?

Carter looked somewhere between crest-fallen at Rosalie's departure, and relieved that the women hadn't taken up to what sounded like an invitation to invade the male precincts of the conference hall. He glanced from Crowley to me.

"It is good to see you again, Masen. It's been far too long," he nodded to Jasper. "Sir, an honor; I knew your father. His publications are legendary, and I see he instructed you well. To have landed such a prestigious position in Greece, says mountains of your knowledge," he looked then to Crowley. "I suppose we should be going if we're going to find good seats for Divac's lecture."

Jasper nodded a farewell, as they exited through the French doors.

I looked to Jasper, his mouth thinned to an angry line. I stepped close to him, speaking quietly. "May I have a word with _you_? Please, excuse us for a moment." I said to the others, leaving Spiros waiting with a stunned Emmett while Jasper and I crossed the dining room through the French windows; exiting onto the terrace that overlooked an expanse of calm gray water.

"Your behavior in there was despicable," I snarled. Jasper didn't even look my way, but stared at the landscape before us.

"Lord Alexander encouraged his men to take foreign wives to teach tolerance for all people in the empire."He said, lost in thought.

"The Macedonian Empire died with your beloved Alexander, Jasper. Carlisle would – "

Abruptly he turned to me, looking me straight in the face. "But not his dreams, Edward. We are his descendants, his protectors," he paused, lowering his voice. "I have never heard anyone address you as Azrael. No one but my father…and _Alice_." His eyes bore into my own. His blue eyes were dark; almost black.

"Save your fury and protectiveness for the one you claim is responsible for the theft. It is _she_ who is in danger. It is not the sister that you need to be concerned about, not at all, Edward."He nearly spat, though the words were spoken calmly, even pleasantly, as the commander of the Order of Hoplites gazed out over the calm Scottish loch. Though his tone reminded me, leaving me no doubt just what was in store for Isabella Swan should I fail.

_No, I could never doubt that_.

I knew Jasper would place his organization before our friendship. He was following his father's instructions to protect the treasure. He had been raised to be a guardian of it. Osmani's tribe saved our lives because this was his destiny. His mark indicated so. It didn't matter that he was but a boy of twenty and but a babe of ten when he found exactly what that position entailed. He very well knew my personal opinion of this fanaticism.

Jasper left my side without my rebuttal; he probably anticipated what I would have said any way. I turned, catching him whisper something to Spiros, as I recalled his reaction to meeting Alice. I had never seen Jasper interact with a lady as he did with Alice. He was speechless and moved to the core. I saw it unfold in his eyes.

I bit out a curse, and turned on my heel, walking away. Jasper was only one man, and the Order of Hoplites was an ancient, mysterious secret organization of fanatics. I would do everything I could to protect the woman I _owed_, from them. And I would help them because I happened to agree with the order of the artifacts being returned.

But, the most damnably annoying part of all of this; was that the whole dangerous fucking situation was Bella's fault. Her _own_ doing.

_Damn your beautiful hide, Isabella!_

"So you can see, gentlemen," Divac's voice droned on from the podium, "that the dilettante Schliemann's findings are ambiguous at best. Furthermore…"

It was a huge, high-ceilinged room where the paint was still fresh, on the walls and on the huge portrait of Sir Michael Muir behind the state where Romanian scholar held forth with scathing diatribe. I should have been comfortable in the milieu, but all I really wanted was to be somewhere, anywhere, but here. Not that I could escape my thoughts no matter where I was.

_It's all my fault. Everything._

I, Azrael Edward Masen, knew full well that my past was littered with burned bones and ruins. All of them of my own doing. Opportunities had been stolen from me, but I'd walked from a hundred more. I'd walked away from the one thing I should have fought for. I had been making excuses and putting the blame elsewhere for my actions ever since. But it was too late to go back. You could only study the past; you couldn't relive it.

While lying in the hospital bed recovering from the accident, I'd thought long and hard about the mistakes, the dead ends, the wasted opportunities. As I grew stronger, I got sick of self-examination and started to nurse dreams. For good or ill, I was nothing if not an opportunist. I had some hope of picking a few shards of honor, respectability – something good – for my own ruins when Sir Michael offered me the chance to mingle here with respected historians in a civilized setting. It had been a parting gift to an injured man from someone who'd shared danger with me. I'd grabbed it like a lifeline, fully intending to dazzle the academic world with my work.

And, besides, the conference was where Bella would be.

I'd even nursed a daydream of her looking up from the audience, eyes shining with admiration for my erudition. As she led the standing ovation when my speech was complete, before throwing herself in my arms, in an excess of fervor at my learned brilliance.

_Why not?Right. Sure._

I'd pulled the learned brilliance scam on her when she was seventeen –_I swear to God, I didn't know! _–so she wasn't likely to fall for it again.

I stirred restlessly in my seat in the center of the crowded lecture hall. The last thing I gave a goddamn about right now was whether or not the site of the Trojan War was in Turkey, Greece, or the back forty of Hell.

If only Jasper and his Hoplites hadn't put in an appearance just as I had been ready to leave the sickroom overlooking the blue sea of Amorgis.

If only Charlie Swan wasn't such a selfish, foolish, preening, touchy, pretentious, pompous fool. Who thought it was his natural born right to have his reputation live on through his daughter's hard work.

If only the Alexandrian papyrus hadn't come to light.

If only Bella and I hadn't chased each other all over the Middle East fighting over the thing.

Sometimes I wondered if maybe I _wanted_ to be the one who found the tomb of Alexander, because of wanting revenge against Charlie Swan for blackening my reputation. Revenge for the things Swan said before summarily throwing me out of the Delta encampment. Or, if I pursued finding the tomb because the thrill I received from the encounters with Bella.

It had gone back and forth for years, snatching clues from each other, especially that bit of papyrus that contained a long list of instructions, some of them in code, for finding the tomb.

If only Bella hadn't won the last round.

_The café in Cairo was small, dark, and noisy, and full of smoke-only some of from tobacco. A young man and veiled woman played rig and dumbec in a spot near the door. Their music accompanied the gyrations of a willowy, dark, haired veiled belly dancer as she moved sensuously from table to table, pausing just long enough to excite the men at each stop. _

_As if her daring dancing style wasn't enough, the girl wore a heavy, jingling belt of coins and belled bracelets on her slender wrists and ankles; sewed onto her swirling orange and pink skirts, and braided into her hip-long hair. The noise was almost as distracting as what she was doing with her hips and jiggling breasts. The crowd loved her. As did I, as she slowly headed my way. Unfortunately though, I didn't plan to stay long enough to witness her show._

_I was more interested in the man opposite me than in the entertainment, though his gaze couldn't help but wander toward the dancing girl from time to time. Only a dead man would have been unaffected._

"_Why are we meeting here, Haroun?" I asked, deliberately not looking toward the dancer. "Give it to me. I already paid you for the papyrus." I held out my hand across the width of the narrow table._

"_And you took my favorite horse," the grizzled old Sheik replied. "Now you must bid for the papyrus like everyone else."_

"_And the other bidders are?"I asked, looking around the crowded room. _

"_You and Swan are not the only ones who seek the secrets of the papyrus, I can assure you."_

_"We are, and you know it. Just name your new price, all right?" I said impatiently._

_Haroun put the familiar leather case that contained the papyrus on the table. He took a sip of thick, sweet coffee and looked around as if he expected a huge crowd of bidders to materialize from the grimy walls. What he got was the dancing girl stepping in front of him._

_What the girl did with her body was enough to make any man sweat._

"_She's worth a fortune," Haroun said after a few moments, wiping his upper lip of the sweat that had beaded there. He held out his hands towards the beautiful dancer. And the girl backed a step away before moving closer once more, staying a hairsbreadth out of Haroun's reach._

_I couldn't help but be affected by the girl's sinuous sexuality. Her teasing movements gave a sharp edge to her dance. All eyes were on her and she knew it. Her laughter rang out from behind the mask of a thin silk veil. Her face may have been covered, but her long waist was bare and much of her round breasts were revealed by the low-cut top of her costume. The hunger in the room was palpable, and despite my own growing interest, I smelled trouble._

_I noticed that the musicians had edged closer to the door. I saw a pair of big men rise from a nearby table and begin to push each other in effort to get a better look at the dancing girl. Someone shouted from behind them. And one of the men was barely able to duck when a bottle flew toward his head. _

_As the fight really got going, the dancer disappeared. I did my best not to get involved, and I ducked under the table as Haroun jumped up and drew a knife. When I came up again, I grabbed the leather papyrus case and ran for the door._

_Once again, the Alexandrian papyrus was mine._

Except it wasn't the right case, and it was empty. She didn't even leave a fucking note.

Divac was still droning on about ancient Greece to a rapt, or possibly asleep, audience.

I should have noticed it from the very second that I saw her sway those hips.

_It was Bella!_

She had somehow pulled a switch in the confusion. Bella got the papyrus back and finally finished the translation. By this time Charlie Swan had found a rich patron to back his archaeological work, and an expedition set out for the island named in the ancient text.

It took me several weeks to find even a hint of where the secret dig was taking place. I followed Charlie and his lovely, far-too-clever-for-her-own-fucking good daughter, exploring several possible sites in Greece before I tracked my arch-rival to the isolated Aegean island of Amorgis.

Maybe I should have let it go, conceded victory and concentrated on one of the other projects that interested me, but my blood still boiled at the thought of the trick the "dancing girl" played on me.

My dreams were heated by more than fucking anger at the memory of her swaying hips and rich, ripe breasts, I was haunted, driven. My mouth drew down in a hard line and my body now tightened again at the tantalizing memory. I took a deep breath and tried to pay attention to the lecture as a means of dulling my sense. Unfortunately, Divac stopped talking before I could get my mind off that night in the Cairo café.

I rose from my seat with the rest of the audience and clapped dutifully. Divac bowed gravely and left the stage. When Chancellor Newton stepped to the podium to announce a short recess, with refreshments available in the entry hall, I sighed and gratefully filed out of the auditorium with the others. Crowley tried to catch my attention to draw me into conversation, but I kept going, needing a walk, needing to be alone.

But more so, I needed to see Bella, knowing that was too much to hope for. Bella was tangled up inside the frilly, feminine world of dressmakers and afternoon teas. It was the safe, sane, predictable life where a woman of her rank and social standing belonged, even if she did look vibrantly alive on horseback with the desert wind blowing through her hair. She was the daughter and granddaughter of respected academics.

Even more important to the British class system, she was the great grand-daughter of an Earl. The youngest son of the Earl had come down from the Highlands to the University of Edinburgh, and shocked his family by marrying a professor's daughter and then staying on to become a professor himself. All his sons followed him into Academia.

I had never heard Bella mention the noble birth nonsense, but Charlie Swan had certainly brought it up to me one painful, memorable occasion. It still stung me deeply to remember being told that Bella's birth and breeding made her far too good a "catch" for the son of a Chicago banker. It meant nothing to Swan that the banker in question owned over twenty branches in Chicago and New York, as well as factories and farms and interest in many growing companies. Yankee commerce, Yankee ingenuity, and Yankee hard work were less than nothing to a man with watered-down blue blood in his veins.

I stood in front of the steps of the lecture hall trying to fucking convince myself to let it go.

_Let it go. Let her go?_

I'd been trying to do that for years, and every time I think I succeed…

I shook my head, and as I did my attention was caught by the sight of two people across the commons, just outside the rose garden. I recognized the lean, dangerous figure of Spiros Tskretisis standing over the petite, dark-haired figure of Alice Swan.

_What the fuck?_

My heart jolted with sudden panic at the sight of the Hoplite fanatic with the innocent girl. I didn't know what Spiros was doing, but I hurried forward, intending to put a stop to whatever he was planning.

Or, what Jasper was planning.

**Author's Note: **Jeez..many of you are just not getting enough darkvamp action. I can see it in your eyes. It's all over your faces. Your body is practically screaming the need for a delicious darkvamp release. Please visit Cursella; she awaits you at "Midnight Decadence" by Lilith617. You won't be sorry. The link is on my favorites. Hmm..I wonder what Jasper whispered to Alice.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **Thank you for stopping by. I want to thank my old encyclopedia for ideas and Lilith617 for her beta-ing this chappie. Please let me know what you think.

*~BPOV~*

After the morning's trials and tribulations with the dressmaker, I was glad to be out in the fresh air. Upon arriving home with my sisters, I'd insisted on needing a walk, and informed them that I would head to the museum thereafter.

They both knew me well enough by the look on my face, no doubt, that I needed time to myself. Though my errand promised that I was in for an even more unpleasant afternoon, I was glad to be away from domestic drama, and heading for an arena of conflict where I was at least sure of the rules of engagement.

Charlie was not going to be happy, but he had not been happy about anything for so long, so what difference did it make?

I was simply going to have to convince him that Sir Michael's latest entertainment idea would not cause a security breach in the museum, and then I'd have to make sure that it didn't.

I smiled, rather enjoying the notion of outthinking Edward Masen. Of course, the way our luck alternated, Edward was about due to win one. That thought made me frown, and I needed to remind myself that there was no such thing as luck. Chance, yes, along with quick recognition of opportunity – but luck?

Well, if luck truly did exist, I had never seen it. Being that it had certainly been bad luck that assisted in Edward and me meeting in the first place.

_Ah, but where would I be without bad luck? Lacking that little spice in my life, surely. _

I stepped around an oak tree that blocked the view of the museum from the commons, and the sun shone out of nowhere. There stood Edward, large and vibrant, a conservative dark suit doing nothing to disguise his powerful, broad-shouldered body. Tension radiated from his taut muscles and there was a dangerous look glinting in his green eyes.

I was so taken by surprise that I halted in my tracks. My heart racing and my breath catching in my throat. My brain shut down for a second, and a completely visceral reaction took me, washing heat over me with a force that nearly drove me to my knees.

Thankfully, the reaction passed. I had trained myself for years to face this man, and face him down more often than not.

_This was the enemy!_

Never mind that he was more beautiful than Lucifer and that the seventeen year old girl who'd loved him still lurked deep within my heart. The grown woman knew he was not to be trusted. I was armored again with an attraction that would never cease. I pulled that worn, battered armor around me now, walking forward to find out exactly what the Yankee fiend was doing in front of _my_ museum.

It took me a moment to see that Edward was not alone. He had his hand on the arm of the handsome young Greek that followed Mr. Whitlock that we had met this morning at the hotel.

_Was he his man servant?_

Alice was there as well, standing on the second of the museum's wide marble steps, putting her at eye level with the young man.

"Alice?" I asked, hurrying forward while retuning her warm smile as she saw me draw near.

"What are you doing here? Hello Mister - ?"

"Spiros, please," the handsome young man answered with a small bow. He was holding a wrapped bowl of some kind.

Alice held up a basket. "Bringing Charlie his lunch. Aunt Saida didn't want to leave the house," she added significantly.

It had been Saida's habit to bring Charlie his meals whenever he got caught up in fieldwork and forgot to eat. I was quite aware that Saida had not been out of the house since we'd arrived in Muirford.

She might be the widow of William Swan, and a staunch Church of Scotland convert, but she was also the Egyptian-born daughter of Muslim scholars. She had adapted to the nomadic way her and Uncle Billy lived in her own country, but wasn't adjusting to being transplanted to the Highlands any better than Alice was.

Aunt Saida had put herself in seclusion since we had arrived, and Aunt Lauren had made no secret about being relieved at Saida's keeping to the house.

"I'll talk to Aunt Saida," I promised Alice. "Maybe we can get her to come to the Highland Ball." I touched the tip of my sister's chin. "Don't I take care of everything?"

"You shouldn't have to."

The velvet laced words did not come from Alice but from Edward Masen, whom I had been conspicuously ignoring. I would deal with_ him_ once I got the two innocents out of the line of fire.

"Alice and I know each other from Amorgis," Spiros said suddenly.

_Oh!_

"So please don't think that I was being rude and speaking to her without an introduction. I understand how things are done in your country, Miss Swan." He must know that_ I_ barely knew myself. Alice and I were naturally inclined to Egyptian customs.

"You know, _Alice_?" Edward and I asked together in unison, baffled to say the least.

"His mother owns the inn," Alice said. "His aunt and uncle sell melons at the market, Bella." She smiled at the young man, who smiled back. "Spiros took me fishing with him one day. Remember when I brought the octopus home for dinner?" She looked at Edward. "That was the day before the ruin fell on you."

I suddenly felt like the worst sister in the world in giving Alice so much freedom to roam and discover. I was raised very similarly the same way by Charlie. Except that I felt I was encouraging natural curiosity by letting her visit the ruins in Greece or the markets; and with Charlie I truly felt neglected and alone.

Spiros cut through a moment of awkward silence, "Alice," he then turned and suddenly looked very nervously towards me. "Miss Swan, I was on my way to your home and happened to cross paths with Alice just now. I was going to do my Lord Whitlock's bidding."

He held up the wrapped bowl. "My lord wishes to give this small token to Lady Alice."

I stood with mouth agape as Alice's smile reached her eyes, "What is it, Spiros?" she said excitedly.

Spiros smiled warmly, "Dates for your Arabian horse, Alice."

Alice giggled, taking the wrapped bowl willingly, as Edward began to pace. I did not like what was taken place. Something was amiss; I just couldn't quite place my finger on it yet. What exactly did–?

"Spiros please inform Jasper Whitlock that I must respectively decline this token," Alice whispered.

Edward and I looked at each other and then at Alice in utter surprise.

"Alice, my Lord, Whitlock is aware that your Arabian must miss dates from his homeland," Spiros insisted, trying to pawn the bowl back into Alice's small hands to no avail.

"Oh, than please make sure to thank him," Alice shrugged her tone sounding more like a question than a request.

"Go, Spiros," Edward growled. And the young man walked away, smiling with the wrapped bowl in hand.

"Alice are you offended? Are you alright? Would you like me to speak to Jasper?" Edward's eyes questioning.

"Azrael, no! There is no need for alarm. I do not know how to handle such tokens so I went with my first reaction," Alice giggled. "My _Egyptian_ reaction." Edward nodded in recognition.

"Oh, my," I said while nodding my head. "I hope Mr. Whitlock is not offended, Alice." She graciously smiled and nodded. "Alice, have you met Jasper Whitlock before this morning? In Greece?"

"No, Bella." She replied with a twinkle in her eye.

"Take Charlie his lunch, and tell him I'll be in to speak with him in a moment. You and I will speak later," I said. Alice bounced in and waved to Edward.

I knew that if Aunt Lauren would have witnessed the exchange that just took place, her reaction and schooling would have been different in matters of courtship. Frankly, I didn't know many of these British customs myself and am aware that _I_ handle most in Islamic traditions and customs. Alice did just that. Egyptians, if offered or given anything, will refuse the first invitation. For we believe that if the offer is from the heart, and not from politeness, it will be offered again.

I was very proud of my Alice.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised as to how you dismiss your friends," I glared at Edward. "I _know _him," he glowered. "He is _not_ my friend. I don't need friends."

Much to my surprise, I found myself asking, "What, precisely, _do _you need?"

He took a step back, as though my words had hit him like a hard blow. His eyes suddenly glittered almost like black diamonds; his look sent a seismic shock through me.

"I want what you want," he told me, in a rough, unrecognizable voice.

It was my turn to take a step back. I shot a protective glance toward the museum door before looking at Edward again. He started grabbing his hair and pulling it in disarray. I backed a few paces farther away, noticing his hands were balled into tight fists.

"The Alexandrian treasure?" I asked.

He looked at me, forlorn; pain evident in his eyes. "For _that _night to never have happened."

His words lingered as he turned and walked away. I was certain that my face mirrored his own. _Pained_.

I saw Alice in the doorway, hesitant to interrupt Charlie, and had the most pensive look on her face.

"Alice? Are you alright?"I asked; concerned with what had taken place not moments before.

"Yes, Bella. I swear I do not dare interrupt Charlie. Saida has mentioned some stories," she smiled shyly.

"I have to say that I am surprised and pleased as to how you handled your possible suitor."

Alice giggled. "Suitor? No, not yet. Jasper and I will be great friends, first."

"_What_?" I could feel my blood begin to boil, the heat rising up my chest, up to my scalp.

"Oh, and don't worry. He will not be offended."

"What? How?" I was dumbfounded, unable to form a coherent word.

"I just do. I have a feeling. He seems like a worldly man that knows and respects different customs and traditions."

I trusted Alice's perception made logical sense; as he did hold a prestigious position in Athens for such worldly knowledge he must possess. Suddenly, we both jumped by a loud thwack sound. We both looked at each other. We both knew it was Charlie's fist landing on an innocent bystander of a table-top.

"Um...Bella? Do you mind if I run home?"

"Alright, but you go straight home. No exploring!"

"Promise."

"I need one more year," Charlie said, pacing back and forth along the length of the main exhibition hall. "We were very close to finding the tomb. We must return, and soon." He swiped a hand through his fringe of thinning hair. "Finding the tomb of Alexander will be my crowning achievement!"

I couldn't have agreed more, but I ignored Charlie's obsession for the moment and looked around from my seat on top of a rough wooden box. I tried to concentrate on the latest crisis to take my mind off Edward's cruel words, Rosalie's enamored daze, Aunt Saida's mood as of late, and the possible idea of Alice now being courted.

_Could it be?_ She has grown so bloody fast. _Damn it, Bella. Concentrate on what Charlie is saying about the matter in hand!_

The floor of the central hall was shining, black-veined, white marble, and the ceiling sported a mural allegorically depicting the epic grandeur of Scottish history. Sir Michael was quite the champion of all things Scottish. The walls sported gilded bas-reliefs of historical figures and mythological creatures, many of them associated with Scottish culture and folklore.

This grand showpiece room was also stacked with packing crates of all shapes and sizes, its marble floor covered with a fair amount of sawdust and mud trailed in by workmen. The place was a man; and Sir Michael wanted to show it off.

_Tomorrow night._

A reception was already planned at the museum for the end of the conference, a week from today. But Sir Michael was a rich man. Rich men were allowed to have whims, and other people hand to turn those whims into reality.

He'd sent a note to the house that Alice had brought with Charlie's lunch. Announcing that he wanted to host a small reception in the museum building tomorrow night, to show it as "a work in progress, so to speak."

Apparently the idea had been suggested to Chancellor Newton by _several_ conference attendees, and he had passed the notion along to Sir Michael, who passed the command on to Charlie – which meant that _I _had a great deal of work ahead of me. And I blame Edward for every bit of it.

"_Several conference attendees"_ to _me_ translated as the devious American treasure hunter manipulating the natural curiosity of the ivory tower types about Charlie's secret project. It was a ploy to get inside the building and snoop before I was ready for him.

"Well, it won't do you any good," I murmured with my arms crossed tightly under my breasts. "Not at all."

_You should not have your own way. Never again. Not after – _

I took a long, deep breath and tried to convince myself that I had more important things to think about then my personal relationship with Edward Masen. It was Edward the grave robber whose plots I had to foil. Normally the thought of matching wits with him was exhilarating, energizing, and gave an edge and purpose to life. Right now all it did was leave a hideous aching emptiness deep in my soul.

My head felt heavy, my wits slow. I stared at the martial scene depicted in the mural across from me and saw nothing. Time stretched out while I woolgathered as Charlie ranted on. I sighed, the sound as wretched as any sound made by any miserable adolescent pining for some impossible dream. The coolheaded, sensible part of my mind found this manifestation of weakness quite ridiculous.

_Never show weakness_, that part of me said. _Never show fear._

"I am tired," I said, rubbing my temples. "My head hurts."

If Charlie heard me he paid no mind. He continued pacing, weaving around the boxes and talking about next season's triumphant excavation. To be fair, I never paid much attention to him when he went off on such tangents. He had a right to his dreaming; I was the practical one. Most of the time.

For a few minutes I let myself stare off into space and be overcome by misery, but it was not in my nature to stay self-absorbed for long. Feeling sorry for oneself was a nice indulgence, but hardly productive. I had responsibilities. Never show weakness, indeed – never allow yourself to be weak at all.

So, I stood up, took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and yelled, "Charlie!"

If any dogs had been in the room, they would have immediately sat down and paid attention. My tone brought a similar reaction from Charlie Swan. He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at me, head tilted attentively sideways.

"Yes, my dear? What is it?"

On the rare occasion when Charlie focused his attention on anything but his work, he projected an endearing, absentminded charm. As exasperated as I frequently am with him, I couldn't help but smile as fondness washed over me now. Charlie was a difficult man to love, but I believed that when you loved someone you accepted them warts and all.

_Edward has no warts._ This is possibly why I don't love him… It was as good an excuse as any.

"Sir Michael – "I stopped myself from saying what I'd intended – that our patron was about to make our lives difficult. Instead I rubbed my hands together and said, "Sir Michael has offered us an opportunity to give a preview of the collection tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow? But – "

"Hear me out, please." I made a sweeping gesture, avoiding looking at the chaos surrounding me.

"It will take a bit of doing, but I'm sure I can get help from the workmen and Sir Michael's staff in making the hall presentable. And Aunt Saida can help with selecting and arranging the displays."

"But the treasure! That devil Masen!"

"The treasure will be quite safe," I smiled. "None of the Amorgis artifacts will be on display tomorrow. Most of the conference attendees have never ventured farther afield than a university library, and are anxious to see any tangible object from the ancient people they study. And the local people will be quite impressed with seeing items from exotic, foreign places. This is a party, Charlie, an entertainment, not a scientific meeting."

Charlie rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Jewelry," he said. "The ladies will like the necklaces and perfume jars from Princess Mutnefer's tomb. And the statues of Anubis and Thoth are interesting and easily unpacked."

"That is important," I agreed. "And a mummy. We need a mummy in the very middle of the room. The princess is in excellent condition."

"You're sentimental about that mummy even though you know it's probably a fake."

"It's a party, Charlie. If someone spills punch on it, we won't be losing a valuable relic."

"Good point, my dear. The main thing is to keep Sir Michael happy. Everything depends on that." He stepped up to me and took my hands. My father's hands were strong and warm, but not so callused as they'd been when I was younger. Charlie didn't do much of his own digging these days. There was a desperation lurking deep in his eyes when he said, "You are a treasure to me, Bella." I felt a warm surge of pride until he added, "And you could be a treasure to Sir Michael if you made more of an effort."

I carefully withdrew my hands from Charlie's and clasped them tightly behind my back. "I will never be a treasure to any man. Certainly not to Sir Michael."

"No. You've already given away what should have been saved to bestow on the proper man."

"Charlie!"I spat, venomously.

He gave me no time to protest. "You had your innocence stolen from you, rather." He put his hands on my shoulders. "My poor dear!"

"I am _no one's_ poor dear," I snarled, striding angrily down the length of the room, putting as much distance as possible between the two of us. Then I unclenched my fists and firmly recaptured my equilibrium.

"Shall we continue discussing tomorrow evening?"I ground out, jaw tight with tension.

Charlie had the sense to realize he'd pushed me too hard, and gave an acquiescing nod. "You'll do whatever is best. You know I trust you. But about Sir Michael…"

The man couldn't seem to give up this subject. "You want me to be nicer to him. I know." I couldn't see how I could be any nicer than I already was, and I didn't think Sir Michael liked being flattered.

I glanced around me, at the heroes painted on the walls, and thought of his whole purpose on the walls, and thought of his whole purpose in building a University in the wrought Highlands of his beloved homeland. "I'll talk more about Scotland with him. He'll like that."I decided.

Charlie scratched his jaw. "I'm sure he will. Promise me you'll pay him particular attention. Talk him into more financing for my work."

I winced at the thought of such begging. "I will make a bargain with you," I said. He frowned. "I will be effusive about Sir Michael's project if you will do something about Aunt Saida. She listens to you."

"What's wrong with Saida?"

"She's homesick and unhappy here," I explained. "I think you should introduce her to the local ladies, take her to church. Even better, take her to the Highland Ball."

"Why can't you take her to church and all that?"He asked, obviously uninterested with entertaining Aunt Saida.

"Because Aunt Lauren couldn't say anything if _you_ did it."

"Lauren's a fool. Saida's a wonderful, charming woman."

"Then you'll take her to the ball?" I urged. I was not going to allow a beloved family member to be shunned or to pine away. "_Please_, dad?"

He smiled, giving in. "You sound just like you did when you were twelve. Of course I will see to Saida's welfare. She's seen to mine for years." He walked toward the plain door set inconspicuously behind a marble pillar. It led to the heart of the building where the real work of the museum was done.

"Now I have work to do, girl," he announced, leaving me to the piles of boxes and crates and empty cases. "I'll see you and your sisters at the Chancellor's reception tonight," he added before disappearing behind the pillar.

_I had forgotten that was tonight! _

I wasn't going to have time to attend any reception. But Rose couldn't go without me, and Charlie wanted me to "be nice" to his patron. Then I recalled that Edward Masen would also be at the reception.

"Well, at least I won't have to be nice to_ him_," I sighed.

**Author's Note: **I feel like getting a chisel and sticking Charlie's eyeball with it. You with me? Next chapter: EPOV at the Chancellor's Reception..


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Twilight_. Stephenie Meyer does. _The Memoirs of Cleopatra_ by Margaret George is a fictional novel and was used for fictional historical references. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **Plenty of research, love, blood, tears, and orgasms went into this. Hope you likey! A huge smooch and thank you goes to my beta, Lilith617. I am forever thankful for the amount of work and fairy dust you sprinkle to the slop I submit to you. You are remarkable. While she was beta'ing this little monster, she text me saying she loved Edward's pov…hope you do, too. Enjoy!

*~EPOV~*

"Where is she?" Tyler Crowley asked, staring at the door impatiently. I stopped momentarily, from glaring at the door we had both been watching, to glare the fuck out of his head. Though, my thoughts echoed his words.

It was all right for _me_ to be impatient for Bella to make an entrance, but for no logical reason at all, I found that it was distinctly _not_ all right for Crowley to. So, who the fuck was Crowley to talk about her? To even think about her, want to see her? Crowley had barely made her acquaintance for fuck's sake.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Crowley asked, turning to me. "Miss Swan, that is."

Stunned, I only showed my teeth, trying to smile.

_Fucking moron_.

I peered through the crowd toward a group of young women gathered in the center of the room. Rosalie Swan was certainly the prettiest among this group and stood out the most, though to me she seemed a pale, over civilized version of a vibrant older sister.

"Too young for me," I said, looking back to Crowley. "She giggles."I was trying to divert his attention from the real Swan in question, but to no avail.

Crowley chuckled. "You know very well which Swan girl I mean."

He nudged me in the ribs, perhaps accidently as we stepped closer together to allow some ladies to pass by. The chancellor's residence was overflowed with visitors and University faculty, and local notables bumping elbow to elbow. I preferred wide-open spaces; I was used to vistas under hot blue skies. The room was hot, alright, but from being too full of people. And it was too noisy, full of bright chatter and intense academic debate.

"I like the _fire_ in Miss Swan's eyes," Crowley went on quietly, leaning closer to me. His eyes alight with an unwavering desire.

"She _is_ a hellcat," I whispered back. It was an impulse, why did I go on with conversing with this dangly fellow?

Crowley's faint smile turned into a lascivious grin. "There's the graceful way she moves?"

"That there is. Years of dancing practice," I muttered, my impatience thickening. He didn't know the half of it, and he certainly wasn't going to hear it from me.

_Now, if I could just shut the fuck up, but why can't I voice my thoughts?_

"And the way she appeared yesterday – like Venus rising out of the foam…"

"She was fully dressed, as I recall." I nearly spat, trying in earnest to hold back the rage that was building within me. Though she had looked enticingly unassailable dressed in bustles and corsets, and high collars, and heavy skirts, and all the other armor a proper lady would dress herself in.

_Different_.

"Beautiful as Venus, I meant," Crowley rushed to explain.

Beautiful? Yes, Bella was always that. "I didn't notice." I answered, adding loftily, "I appreciate Miss Swan for her mind."

And, her quick wit, her stubborn attitude, her pouty lower lip that she bites into when she concentrates, and, _my God,_ the way her body sways when she dances-

Crowley laughed. "Appreciate a woman for her mind and you'll never get anywhere with her. Compliment her on her hair, and her pretty shoes, but never her mind."

In that instant I wanted to take Crowley outside and pound him into the ground. "You don't know Miss Swan," I snarled, defensively.

"I think I know her better than you." He raised his eyebrows condescendingly.

I clicked my tongue, "I _seriously_ doubt that."

"I know how to win her." Crowley's superior, amused expression turned quite serious and assessing as he looked over me.

"Because, my friend, if you've known her for years and haven't won her. Then you are a blind fool."

_A fool? Me? How did we end up in this conversation? Belligerent asshole_.

"The woman hates me!"

"Is that so? Good." Crowley gave a low laugh and shook his head. "She certainly has strong feelings for you. And you hate her, of course. All the better for me." He clapped me on the arm. "That's all right I like women with strong feelings. No milk-and-water misses for me. She and I will deal quite nicely. And her father will approve of me."

With that, he turned and made his way through the crowd. Getting closer to the door, I suppose. Crowley wanted to be the first to greet Bella when she finally made her entrance. Leaving me outside, out of my fucking mind.

The only reasonable explanation was that this asshole had gotten brazen with drink to come up to me and speak about Bella to me like that. Where was the redoubtable Miss Swan, anyway?

And why did Crowley have to remind me of–

_Ten years ago – several delicious hours later while Bella slept…_

"_Marry her? What do you mean marry her?"_

"_Just that," I told Charlie Swan, confidently. "I'm asking you for your daughter's hand in marriage."_

_The older man laughed. He stood there in the lantern light in the hot confines of the tent and blatantly laughed in my face. The sound burned through my soul like acid._

"_Do you honestly think you're good enough for my daughter, Edward? You, an American nobody disowned by his own father?"_

"_My father – "_

"_Isabella is the great-granddaughter of the Earl of Bothen. Who the devil was your great-grandfather, huh?"_

"_A soldier in the Revolutionary War," I answered, hating the arrogant superiority of the man. "We won, you know."_

"_You'll not win with me. Nor will you win Isabella. Get out. I want you gone tonight. Don't talk to my daughter again. Don't even so much as try to communicate with her. She's only sixteen, and I will _not_ have you exploiting a girlish attraction for your own purposes."_

_The world stopped. I had to catch hold of the tent pole to keep myself from falling. All I could do was croak one unbelieving word. _

"_Sixteen?"_

"_Well...technically she just turned seventeen a few weeks ago."_

_The girl I'd made love to and wanted to marry had just turned seventeen? _

I had been so stunned that I'd given in to Charlie's demand to leave without further argument. I knew it was wretched. A cowardly action by sunrise. But it was too late then, of course. Bella went back to Scotland with Alice, years passed. It was too late then. Now it was _ten_ years too late.

But damn it all to hell. Crowley _still_ has no fucking business sniffing around her. I possessed her once. I had to again. It's become a fucking obsession now.

I need her, and _refuse _to live without her.

*~BPOV~*

I paused outside the garden gate of the Chancellor's house, stopping to consult my pocket watch, hoping I wasn't too late. I find the rules of proper society more difficult to interpret than Egyptian hieroglyphs and far less interesting. But I have to do it. Duty calls. Charlie needs this.

You'd think the aristocratic blood in my veins would make it all come naturally.

I sighed. Well, it doesn't, and I am far too tired from hours of hard work at the museum to make it. Maybe I am only fashionably late, rather than unconscionably, rudely late. Well, there was only one way to find out.

_Except that Edward was in there. _

I'd almost not come at all, and could have used my work as an excuse. But I'd promised Rose.

And I'll be damned to every circle of hell at once if I show any weakness to Dr. Edward Masen.

Of course, it is more likely that he wouldn't even notice my absence. That thought alone scratched at my old wounds that I didn't want to examine at the moment, though I knew I shouldn't care.

I looked at the house, taking in its tall front windows. Each one aglow with warm gold lamplight. I could faintly hear the buzz of conversation, even from the edge of the front walk. Someone was playing a piano inside, badly, and there was a swarm of women's voices all joined in a song I didn't recognize. I suspected that most of the singers didn't either, but they were making an effort. The place did appear cheerful and inviting.

I put on my most pleasant demeanor, and resolutely marched up the walk before clapping the brand new brass doorknocker. I thanked the maid who let me in as she took my shawl before walking with head held high into the Chancellor's overcrowded drawing room. Immediately, I could see Edward's tall, broad-shouldered form. A swath of bronzed, unruly hair falling across his brow. His eyes darkened, boring into me as he noticed my entrance, his glare flashing lightning while his frown rumbled thunder. I could feel his wrath but couldn't understand it.

As always, I was tempted to stride forward to confront this wrath that had consumed him. Tempted to be near him, bate him. Make him argue with me so that I could feel the electricity run up my spine when he smirked at me. Feel his body heat rise when he's angry. Feel alive, and unbound, and…

I am such a hopeless fool. _Had been. Never again. Remember? Oh, right_.

_Steady, girl, steady_. _Come on Bella, duty calls_.

I had work to do here tonight, people to speak to, situations to handle. Edward Masen was _not_ on the agenda. Nor was the man who stepped in front of me.

"Good evening, Miss Swan."

I had no idea what Professor Crowley was so cheerful about, and I almost stepped impatiently around him. But it occurred to me that the man might be genuinely glad to see me, and I managed to wrench my mind away from my tasks and give him a warm smile.

"Hello," I said as I held out my hand. "I tend to get distracted. I need to speak to my sister and Lady Angela as well as Sir Michael. Is Sir Michael here?"

"He is coming, I believe." Professor Crowley replied, holding my hand instead of giving a brief social handclasp I expect, leading me further into the crush of people.

_Oh, I hate crowds_.

"You look fetching this evening, Miss Swan."

I had been fetching and carrying, and unpacking, and arranging. I had aching muscles from it all. And I still had to return to the museum when I was done here to continue the work for the next night's party.

"Thank you, Professor. Oh, there's Lady Angela on the sofa. I must speak to her."

Crowley stuck to my side as though attached, as I started across the room. I knew that Edward was still staring; I could practically feel his gaze burning into my back.

I honestly had no idea what was the matter with the man, but I was not going to be provoked tonight.

_That is it!_ He is trying to embarrass me, trying to get me to repeat my performance from yesterday where everyone could witness me having a fit of a temper. That would be fine for him, he is leaving at the end of the week, but I have to live here for months, possibly years.

My whole family could easily be ostracized if I made a fool of myself. I cannot afford social gaffes, and he well knows that.

I was not prepared to see him yesterday. My armor will not slip again.

"Your dress is lovely," Professor Crowley smiled, interrupting my internal tirade.

"Thank you, Professor."I replied, my cheeks slightly heated by his comment.

His smile widened. In fact, he shot a triumphant glance towards someone over his shoulder. I had no idea what he was so pleased about; I was surprised he had even what I was wearing. My attire consisted of the same midnight-blue skirt I'd worn the day before, with a different, more formal, matching bodice. I didn't have an endless wardrobe, after all.

"Doesn't Miss Swan look lovely?" Crowley addressed Lady Angela as we reached the sofa.

The Laird's widow looked me over with a tolerant smile. I took the opportunity to say, "Fashion is exactly what I need to talk to you about, Lady Angela."

"Indeed," Lady Angela, a vision in lavender satin and cream lace answered. "I have heard all about The Dress."

A group of women gathered around us, like handmaidens in attendance to a Queen. Lady Angela gave a glance around, waving her hand. "We all have."

"Shocking," said Lady Cope. "Your aunt and sister have every right to be devastated by this terrible news."

_Good Lord, I fail to comprehend these aristocrats_.

Lady Cope's words and mournful tone were echoed by many others. Aunt Lauren, with her eyes still faintly red from earlier tears, was standing behind the sofa. She sniffled, and her lower lip quivered threateningly. Rose stood between Professor Carter and Emmett Cullen, looking pale and mortified.

_Holy crow. _

I couldn't conceal the gasp that left my lips as I took in the sight before me. The London dressmaker had made a mistake, sending the wrong gown halfway across the country, and there was no hope of retrieving the lost one in time for Rose to wear to the ball.

It was not as if someone had died, or tomb robbers had reached a Pharaoh's burial chamber before the scientists. Though I did manage _not_ to point out that the matter was hardly worth all this drama, though of course to any proper woman it was.

If it didn't matter so much to Rose and Aunt Lauren, I would not be standing here in front of the arbiter of local taste to ask for a boon.

"I hate the notion of my sister not being able to attend the Highland Ball. It would be tragic for a girl to not go to her very first dance. I've been puzzling over the solution all day," I said carefully, looking around at the attentive group of women before turning a pleading look on to Lady Angela. I hesitated. Everyone leaning forward expectantly.

"Go on, my dear," Lady Angela urged.

*~EPOV~*

_What the devil is the woman doing?_

Bella is playing the crowd like a fisherman plays a trout, but I seem to be the only one who sees that she is up to something. It's that sparkle in her doe eyes. I can sense it. And Crowley is standing too fucking close to her for my taste.

I hate the proprietary way Crowley gazes at Bella, as though she is a precious, yet rare gold statue of a goddess he'd just discovered. I nearly snarled at him earlier, but his attention was centered on Bella Swan. Along with everyone else in the fucking room. The woman should have been an actress instead of a dancer.

_Wait, NO...I loved the fact that she can move her hips like that._

"Rose and I are much the same size," Bella explained.

I glanced between the sister, both short and slender. Rose's eyes were brown, while Bella's were a rich, warm, lively, snapping golden brown. Rose's complexion was a perfect pink with porcelain tint, while Bella's still bore the kiss of the Mediterranean sun on two exquisite, rose-pink cheeks.

And, oh yes, Bella's breasts were a bit larger than Rose's. Beautifully, high, firm breasts. I remember their enticing swell in her dancing costume. The perfect fit of them in my large hands, their satin smoothness on my lips and tongue.

_Fuck, I was hardening by the thought._

I couldn't help but smile at those memories; a feral, possessive smile that I aimed straight at that smug bastard Crowley.

"If you don't think it would be improper or forward of me, Lady Angela," Bella went on, "the dress sent for Rose could be altered a bit, and I could wear it. While the Highland Ball is also my first formal dance, I am hardly a girl of seventeen."

She looked around at the crowd of local biddies again, charming them the way a street magician charmed a cobra.

I don't know why some of the women looked shocked, or why others looked approving or thoughtful. I exchanged puzzled glances with Emmet. He shrugged his massive shoulders and Jasper lifted his eyebrows. I was relieved that they had no more understanding than I did. It seemed we were witnessing a women's mystery of some sort. The folklorists in the group should be taking notes.

There was a pregnant pause while Lady Angela considered this, apparently, grave matter-whatever it was. It seemed to me that the world held its breath, the faint strains of very bad singing and piano playing in a distant room was the only noise to be heard in the universe.

_What the fuck was going on? _

Finally, Lady Angela nodded gravely, "That is very generous of you, my dear. I see no harm in it."

"Thank you," Bella said in a girlishly grateful tone that set my teeth on edge.

Everyone sighed and began to breathe again. Rose squealed in delight and clapped her hands, rushing forward to hug her sister. Their aunt Lauren beamed proudly, as though she'd arranged the solution to this thorny problem herself, and much feminine babble started up.

The men turned back to their own far more serious conversations. Except for fucking Crowley, which to my annoyance; was now stood at Bella's side looking worshipfully at her, ready to nominate the woman for sainthood.

Or possibly the position of Mrs. Crowley. Which he no doubt thought was an infinitely more suitable position for Bell to attain.

_Asshole_.

A snarling wave of fury stabbed through me at the thought when the interloper leaned closer to her to speak. I moved swiftly forward to put a stop to this impertinence, but the crowd shifted around me, blocking my way for a few moments. There was a flurry of excitement by the door, and greetings were called out as Sir Michael came bustling in.

By the time I spotted Bella again she was across the room, gliding with graceful purpose toward Sir Michael. Crowley followed like a pilot fish in the wake of a sleek, magnificent shark. His presence clearly forgotten with the sighting of this _more_ important prey. I knew I should be ashamed of the unkind analogy. Yes? _Maybe not_.

_My blood fucking boiled._

Even a hint of her with another man drove out anything but the need to grab on to what was _mine_.

Yes, I definitely had something to prove to Bella Swan. I have done so much harm to her. She undoubtedly told Charlie what transpired between us. And if I knew Charlie he used that as a weapon.

She was a virgin, and I was stupidly surprised that she was. I was so achingly sorry to have hurt Bella, yet my natural instinct said otherwise. That feeling of…_remorse_ had faded as quickly as it came. In a way, I was _glad,_ and perversely pleased that it was _I_ that had claimed her. _My_ body that hovered above her innocence as I took what should _still_ be mine. Pleased was an understatement when I knew that that image would forever be ingrained in that beautiful mind of hers.

_Fucking idiot_, I thought. Scolding myself for wanting Bella all for my own. But I do want her, _now_, again, and again…_always_.

I had a brief, brave vision of sweeping her out of the fucking room, out of this god forsaken town; with its fancy etiquette and aristocrat chatter. I wanted to throw her over the saddle of a magnificent Arabian stallion, and ride into the night under the bright full moon.

But my gelding was no doubt peacefully asleep in its stable in Cairo, the moon was a little past full, and it was a cloudy night. And who was I to sweep her away from, _normalcy_?

I was in Scotland to save Bella, alright. But not from safe, bland mediocrity; or even from the attentions of eager suitors. She didn't want me, and she was certainly better off without me.

If she wanted to approach Sir Michael Muir wearing that determined expression I knew so well, than it was none of my affair. Which hadn't stopped me though from drawing closer to find out what it was exactly that she wanted from, Sir Michael.

It wasn't the determination I minded so much as the flattering smile she turned on her father's patron when she reached his side.

_Why didn't she ever smile at me like that?_

Sir Michael fucking basked in the look she gave him. Crowley saw it and sighed. I understood both men's reactions very well. Bella hadn't a clue as to how beautiful she was. No awareness that her smile could stun a man at a thousand paces, that the tilt of her head or her hand on her hip could enflame unquenchable lust.

She could dance like Delilah and not know she practiced seduction itself. She could move like the sultriest of temptresses and speak in a low, purring voice that drove a man to his knees when she did nothing more than ask him to have a look at a potsherd. And her smile, _my God,_ her smile!

She was made for sex.

_Sex with _me_…_

I caught the thought, and forced down the yearning that would never die within me.

"I'm so happy to see you, Sir Michael."

Bella's voice, bright, brittle, and cheerful: made my body quake. She sounded uncertain and rather false. She did not sound like Bella. This piqued my curiosity, and helped calm my frayed self control.

"And I am delighted to see you, Miss Swan," Sir Michael replied. There was nothing at all false in his enthusiasm.

"Bella, please," she said, laughing in a feminine, breathless way I had never heard from her before. "Certainly we know each other well enough by now for you to call me that. Or Isabella, if you prefer."

"Isabella." Sir Michael nodded. "What a lovely name. Your father mentioned your middle name is Cleopatra. Isabella Cleopatra. I imagine you take some pride in being named for the most famous lady of the ancient Egyptian race."

There was an awkward moment of silence, yet all Bella did was to continue to smile upon her father's patron. This was definitely _not_ the Bella I know, and I didn't like it one fucking bit.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I sighed and spoke calmly, confidently just how I knew would irate and challenge her.

"Cleopatra is a Macedonian name. The Cleopatra who ruled Egypt was a Macedonian _Greek_, a descendant of Alexander's general, Ptolemy. After Alexander conquered Egypt it was ruled by Macedonians for several hundred years after his death." I leered as Bella gave me the familiar annoyed look I sought.

_Hah! There you are!_

I basked in it, and went on. "_Our_ Isabella Cleopatra here was actually named for another Cleopatra, Alexander's sister. Alexander had his father assassinated at the earlier Cleopatra's, his sister's, wedding," I added with a sharp smile.

Bella rounded on me, as I knew she would. Her eyes shining, her cheeks blazing, red lips snarling. Fuck she was magnificent when she was angry.

"Alexander did _no_ such thing! Alexander would never have had a part in the assassination of his own father. The murderer acted alone."

"Oh, yes," Sir Michael said before we properly got going. Bella turned her attention back to Sir Michael who was nodding wisely. "Dr. Swan has explained all about Alexander the Great to me. How his small mountain kingdom in northern Greece was not unlike Scotland. How he led the Macedonian army across the known world, conquered Persia and Egypt, and marched on – to India, wasn't it? Amazing man. Died young, I believe." He waved a hand. "I built this museum to bring the glory of the past to my homeland, but if it's not Scots history, I'm afraid I can't keep it straight."

"That's all right," Bella said, fluttering her eyelashes in a most flattering way. "Remember history is what you have Father for."

All I could think of for a moment was that Bella never fluttered her eyelashes at _me_. Of course, I might have laughed at her if she did. Or kissed her. I wanted very much at this moment to kiss her. Come to think of it, I _always _wanted to kiss her; I was simply closer to the edge of loosing control at the moment.

If she were to turn to me right now, chances were good I'd draw her into my arms and kiss her in front of Aunt Lauren, Professor Crowley, Sir Michael, _everybody_. To hell with propriety!

But she didn't turn to me. She concentrated on Sir Michael. No doubt that was her assigned task this evening.

_Damn you Charlie Swan._

I understood the need to court wealthy patrons, and Charlie was a shameless huckster. It was the one thing Charlie was any good at; I granted him that. Bella, however, had never been involved with the fundraising part of the hunt for Alexander's tomb. She'd been too busy doing the actual research that her father built his reputation on. He did not need Bella's field expertise right now, so she'd been relegated to go begging hat in hand in Charlie Swan's place.

This whole fucking situation infuriated the fuck out of me, but before I could do anything to put a stop to it, Jasper appeared at my side. The sharp young man clamped around my arm like a vise, and he drew me away from the group around Sir Michael.

"Your lady's defense of Lord Alexander is eloquent and fervent," the leader of the Hoplite Order murmured quietly. "It would be a shame to lose such passion."

I heard the icy threat beneath Jasper's words and met his gaze.

"She is _mine_," I answered with quiet intensity.

_Mine_ to protect, I corrected the furious, green-eyed monster that was trying to take over my thoughts and actions.

We stopped by the entrance to the music room. The singing had resumed, and covered Jasper's whisper, "Her fate is in your hands."

"Bella would not agree."

"But you and I know the truth." Jasper gave a worried look around. He paused long enough to give a gracious nod to Lady Angela who brightly smiled at him in return. Then Jasper looked back to me.

"Your time grows shorter, my friend. I am a moderate man, and I can keep Spiros in check. But several less moderate members of our order have arrived in Muirford, and they are not so patient. They question my leadership. They will not stand by and allow Charlie Swan to exhibit what Lord Alexander took with him to the grave."

I heard Bella's throaty laughter over the sound of music, because I always listened for her voice, no matter how hard I tried not to. The very sound pressed hot against my skin. The air sparkled with her presence.

_I must be going mad!_ I could go for months without thinking of her, couldn't I? Weeks, at least. Why was it that while we roamed the exotic land of the Middle East I could control my attraction to her, but here in plain, prosaic Scotland being near her drove me mad with lust? I needed to keep my head clear. I would not look at Bella, but awareness of her was everywhere around me. I was drunk with it.

"Whoa." I gave a low, bitter laugh, and fought my way back to face the delicate, dangerous matter with the Hoplites. The truth was I'd never been able to keep my head clear around her, not when we spent more than a few minutes together. I was just able to put more distance between us in other places. So better to keep away from her in this room.

I returned my focus on Jasper. "Those grave goods were plundered hundreds of years ago. You told me so yourself."

"Our ancestors dealt harshly with those grave robbers. Their blood soaked the sacred ground of Lord Alexander's resting place in sacrifice, but we never found the stolen treasure."

"Then the Swans aren't exactly grave robbers then, are they? They found the treasure fair and square."

Jasper smirked. "In your opinion, Dr. Masen. We see the situation differently. Our duty is to guard the tomb and all it once held. We will have the treasure returned, and the Swans will halt the hunt for that which shall remain hidden."

"Or they die." I interrupted before Jasper had finished. I've heard his lunatic order's fanaticism chant before.

"I've heard it before: you won't stand by and allow what your people have spent hundreds of generations protecting to be stolen away to enrich, and entertain imperialist foreigners. You're right. I agree with you. I just do not know why you had Spiros spy on Alice in Greece. How long have you been spying on the family without letting me know?"

"We have been looking for Charlie Swan and his campsite the moment he submitted his theories to Athens for publication. We were searching for over a year and they happened to land in my lap in Athens. But by then they had found the treasure. _Your_ Bella Swan runs a very tight-lip camp and household for that matter. We never found the dig site. We couldn't infiltrate her staff. I needed confirmation so I placed Spiros to do so, but he only succeeded a handful of encounters with Alice. I was running out of time without information so I made a visit to an old friend, that's where you came in, and you know the rest."

"Stay away from Alice. She is innocent."

"No physical harm will come to her. _Ever_. I will tell you one more time. It is not _her_ you need to worry about, and I suggest you do something about it, Edward." Jasper glanced over my shoulder toward Bella. "Before it is too late."

I gave the man a tight nod. "Time for me to leave the party, then."

I heard Bella laugh again and my body instinctively moved in her direction.

"I wasn't having much fun any way."

**Author's Note: **But the night is still young…


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **I am awestruck and encouraged with knowing that TR is in many of your favorite stories. It is an honor. Thank you. Thank you for taking the time to read. Many thanks and boobie-gropes to my fuck-awesome beta Lilith617. Thanks for, oh I don't know…everything. I love you hard, as hard as Edward's marble peen. This talented lady betas my slop, while penning her quivering hot fic (it's on my favorites). Go check it. "Midnight Decadence" is hot. No joke. It's going to explode. Okay, let's see if I can hit the angst rating.

*~BPOV~*

"That was distinctly not the most fun I have ever had."I said addressing a person who had been dead for several thousand years. Then again, the mummy might possibly be only a few years old. Either way, she didn't talk much. I giggled at the thought.

If the small bandaged-wrapped body was a fake, it was a very good one. But either way, it was safe to confide in. The blackened, tattered form of the mummy rested in a brand new glass case in the very center of the entrance hall, under the small circular skylights in the dome.

There was still work to be done tonight, but the place was in much better shape. Thank goodness Alice and Aunt Saida stayed to assist the workers in unloading and unpacking most of the items. Most of the boxes and crates had been moved out of sight, and the marble floors were clean and sparkling.

Display cases were now scattered about, with the mummy case the centerpiece of the impromptu exhibit. I had returned to the blessed quiet of the museum to begin filling the display cases. I found Charlie napping in the little room behind his workroom and persuaded him to go home to his own bed. I was happy to be alone with the past in this dark and shadowy place illuminated by the pools of light shed by a few scattered lamps.

The quiet of the museum was soothing. I welcomed it in hopes to calm this uneasiness. My forced pleasantries at the Chancellor's reception were exhausting. My muscles ached, I was hungry, I hadn't been sleeping well, and I was absolutely exhausted. Nevertheless, my body could not help but come alive when in close proximity of Edward Masen.

_Focus Bella, the party tomorrow night…oh, right!_

"People like mummies," I whispered to the cadaver as I finished writing out an information card on heavy, cream-colored stock. My handwriting was bold and easy to read. Those who stopped to read the information on the card would find that they were gazing on the withered visage of Princess Aziza, a royal lady of the Twelfth Dynasty. Or possibly not.

"We'll keep your dubious background a secret between us girls." I muttered as I finished writing the information card.

_Lord knows, I understand dubious pasts._

Tonight was one of the most boring evenings of my life except where Edward was concerned, and hence why I am doing what I usually do when frustrated. I always have felt the need to voice out my frustration. The eerily quiet, and dark of the museum felt comfortable enough to voice out my frustrations. I used to go out into the desert in Egypt sometimes to do that. _Just like that one evening…_ Or pick a camel to talk to on the evening picket line.

_Holy crow, what a night_.

I stayed as long as I could stand it, I really did. Made the rounds. Danced attendance on Sir Michael. A good man, a bit of a stiff though. Princess Aziza, here, would like him. Quite intelligent in his own field – but I'm not interested in business, and even ancient Scottish history is too recent for my taste.

I touched a small gold brooch pinned to the lace of Princess Aziza. "There we go."

I even managed to bite my tongue when _that_ Carter idiot came up and offered to translate the hieroglyphs on my necklace. That man has been trying my patience with the amount of times he's insulted my intelligence. I was about to tell him what to do with his translations – but Rose raised her eyebrows in alarm. So I was nice. Too nice. But I won't be when I speak with her tomorrow about the way she and that young Emmett fellow were looking at each other all night. I'm going to have a talk with her.

_Or maybe?_ Maybe Aunt Saida should give the talk she always says she should have had with me but didn't until it was too late, and then sadly shakes her head and pats my hand and looks guilty, as if she somehow failed me. I mean _really_? The woman's husband, Uncle Billy, had been murdered by grave robbers while she was pregnant – as if she had the strength to look after anyone, even herself at the time.

I finished polishing the thick glass top of the cherry wood case and glanced up over the window.

"This is a cool and cloudy land. The dampness isn't good for you, I know." I apologized to the mummy. Poor Princess Aziza being trotted out for parties isn't something I'm comfortable with either.

I yawned, but resisted the temptation to check my pocket watch. I knew it was late, and I'd only feel even more tired if I found out just how long it had been since having breakfast at the Hotel. Come to think of it, I couldn't recall if I'd eaten since then. Lack of food as well as sleep might explain my light-headed chattering over the last few minutes.

Of course, "All Edward's fault," I whispered stifling a yawn. Being near him always rattled me, muddled, or sharpened my thought processes. It filled my senses with all sorts of incoherent yearnings_. Want_. It was easy to blame him for almost every inconvenient or unjust thing that had ever happened to me. I gave a soft slightly hysterical laugh. It usually _is_ his fault.

_That night._ That night was in fact the only one thing I had _never_ blamed him for.

A pity it was the one thing he wished had never happened.

"Bastard," I snarled. I looked down at the mummy once more, and saw my own haggard reflection superimposed over the mummy's head in the glass. I felt almost as old as my ancient companion, and certainly more world-weary. I should be ashamed of my action on that long-ago evening, but I wasn't. I never had been. That was what no one would understand – not even Edward Masen.

I gave the thick glass top of the display case one more swipe with a chamois cloth, than moved to a smaller case that rested on a tall wooden stand. Many small objects had already been carefully placed within this case. There was a small beetle-shaped Scarab carving in Lapis Lazuli, an elegant little gold statue of a seated cat, tiny rock crystal makeup and perfume jars, and a pair of dangling gold lotus earrings.

I was particularly fond of all of these small, feminine objects. They put my soul very in touch with the ladies of ancient Egypt. Thousands of years separated us, but I didn't think they were very different from me, those women who'd lived and loved so long ago. I'd read poetry and letters they'd written. The women of that time had no qualms, no restraints. They could speak openly and shamelessly, and with words of scorching sensuality, of love and longing.

Given a choice and the chance, my heart would forever be on the banks of the Nile. And my memories would forever turn back to the precious few weeks when my father's gloriously handsome American assistant and I talked, and touched, and shared swift stolen glances as we unearthed these small precious objects side by side.

I knew bloody well what he'd been up to now, from a decade's distance. He'd always been a mercenary and opportunist.

_When he saw something he wanted he did whatever was necessary to obtain it_.

I frowned and reminded myself, as I always did when I was tempted to be flattered by the work he'd put into seducing me, that he was a man of strong sensual appetites and I'd been the only available female in the Delta Camp.

There I go, "living in the past again."

"Well you are in a museum, Isabella."

_What the hell?_ Why didn't I feel his proximity? I _always_ did.

I whirled to face him. I didn't scream, of course. Perhaps, subconsciously I did feel his proximity for I couldn't keep my mind from thinking of him. Edward was here. Tie undone and coatless, wool trousers hung low on his hips, hair windblown. Eyes a mysterious blend of dark and bright, breathing uneven. I could not keep my eyes off him. I was just looking. Appreciating shamelessly.

"And it isn't always my fault," he added with a smirk, his fingers running through his errant locks.

I didn't demand to know what he was doing here. I already knew.

I raised an eyebrow. "How?"

He smiled. "The window," he said huskily.

His voice and his smile did things to places inside me that were deep and mysteriously fluttered. His eyes stared back at me. Waiting. _Claiming_. I defensively crossed my arms but this apparently led Edward's eyes to my cleavage.

"Well?" I demanded.

"Third-floor back window. The front guard was asleep. I used my belt to go up one of the columns to the roof. Making the skylights too small for a man to go through was a very good idea. The back windows however… aren't as small as you think. And the painters left one conveniently cracked open. To be fair, the door of the room I came in was locked," he shrugged walking closer to where I stood.

_Damn him. _

"Do you always carry lock-picks?"I asked a little unnerved.

He lifted an eyebrow, a slight smile escaping his lips. "Don't you?"

"Certainly not."I scoffed turning away.

"You really are a terrible liar, Isabella. Did you leave them at home this evening?" he muttered looking at his polished shoes.

"Yes." I whispered, "Yes, I did." He had heard me and his head full of unruly hair whipped up, his eyes a darkened emerald. His hands went to tugging his hair. A nervous habit I knew very well. His fingers long and calloused; I also knew so well.

I also could clearly recall kissing the small scar on his right palm, the keepsake from a snake's bite. My lips had moved up to his wrist after that innocent gesture, then to his shoulder. There had been nothing of the angry, distant man I see before me in his passionate, fiery response.

Even when he stood perfectly still I was aware of his lithe strength, his perfectly tall body, the fluid gracefulness of the slightest of movements. His grim features were equally deceptive.

I knew his lively smiles and frowns, and how hot and sweet his mouth could be when pressed to mine. Of his voice straining, groaning deeply in my ear. The wariness in his eyes was familiar, though, as were the dark shadows beneath. He drove himself too hard. He always had, but not towards the direction I preferred.

"You look tired," he told me.

_That makes two of us._ I understood his tone; concern sometimes got in the way of constant desire.

He waved a finger sternly at me. "If you're going to be the Belle of the ball you need your beauty sleep."

This caused me to stand straighter than he thought possible it seems, since alert passed through his eyes. I took the opportunity to bate him. I took a step closer.

"I am no beauty. Rose will be the Belle of the ball. I require very little sleep," giving him the same tone I used with Sir Michael, daring him to laugh at me. He only parted his lips, licking his lower lip…_slowly_.

I was hypnotized. _He_ did this to me. Time stood still and nothing mattered but the man in front of me. _Always_.

"Wrong on all counts, my dear." He paced closer to me as he spoke, soft-footed, stalking.

_Good God_, but he was beautiful. Sometimes I forgot to properly look at the man. Tonight was not one of those times.

"Will you dance with me at the ball?" His smile turned feral. "Dance_ for_ me?"

_Yes._ That was what I wanted more than anything in the world. Aunt Saida had taught me the bridal dance of her people. I always imagined dancing it for Edward while he –

_Steady Bella!_

"Don't be ridiculous," I breathed out.

It took all my effort to focus my attention on anything that would stop the color in my cheeks. The bastard knew me too well.

He smirked, "If I told you I was thinking of you naked, what would you say?"

_That makes two of us._

"I would say that you are attempting to distract me. And that I ought to box your ears for such presumption."

"Box my ears," he laughed. It was a beautiful sound and contagious I gave him a crooked smile attempting not to laugh.

He moved closer to me still, so that I had to crane my neck to look at him. He'd never used his size to dominate me before. It should scare me. It should make me scream for the guards, but all I did was look into his eyes. Daring him. He put his hand near my throat; close enough to feel the heat and flow of my veins.

"It might be interesting if you tried boxing my ears, Miss Swan."Edward was acting distinctly odd this evening.

_That made two of us._

I would have backed away from him, but that would show weakness. A lamp behind him outlined the breadth of his shoulders and the silky bronze sweep of his hair, leaving his face shadowed but for the angry, hungry spark in his eyes. His presence surrounded me, heightened my senses. Energy throbbed between us at the spot where his palm did not quite touch me.

_How? How can he keep doing this to me?_

"Yes, yes," I said after a hot, breathless moment. "You've made your point."

He smiled. It was not pleasant, but it was enticing. His voice was a low purr when he asked. "What point is that, sweetheart?"

My senses reeled from the hint of danger in Edward's voice. I had to swallow before I could answer. "That you're a big boy," I said to him. The evil smile widened.

"I'm glad you remember." He took another step. He smelled like almonds and sand.

"Back off," I pushed on his chest and he took a couple of steps back. I was shocked at the ache of disappointment that went through me. The man had no trouble confusing me.

"Do you think there's a cure?" he whispered.

"For you?" I snapped.

"For you," he whispered with narrowed eyes.

My sharp silence followed him as he turned to the display case. He looked at the delicate objects within rather than face me. His face was looking at the items reverently and he looked – _sad_.

After what seemed a long while I moved up to stand beside him. I made sure that my shoulder brushed his arm trying to provide a sort of reassurance and ease the weary look that his eyes portrayed.

He sighed and said, "You kept the cat, I see."

I slightly readjusted my posture before stepping away infinitesimally from Edward.

"It is a valuable historical artifact."

"Hmmm. I still say you'd look pretty in the earbobs," he said leaning in to where I stood.

"They are not mine to wear."

"The princess wouldn't mind," he retorted playfully.

"You said that when you first found them."I recalled the memory fondly.

"Bella," he almost moaned. "I meant it then, and I mean it now."

"Hmmm."

"What? No, 'You're as irresponsible as ever, Dr. Masen?' You're slipping, Bella," he mocked, clicking his tongue at me.

"I see no reason to preach a sermon to deaf ears, Dr. Masen," I retorted.

"Such asperity!" He put a hand over his heart. "I'm cut to the quick."

"Of course you are. May I see the blood, please?"

"You want me to undress for you? Right here?" He gestured around us, and I spun to face him. His hand caught my arm as I moved. He drew me closer, his lips an inch away from mine. "In front of the princess, Isabella?"

My resolve was slipping. His smell and heat intoxicating my thought process.

_Breathe!_

"I am most certain the princess wouldn't mind. You're trying to distract me, Dr. Masen."

"Is it working?"

"Yes."I was breathless as he stepped closer placing one of his knees in between my legs, forcing me to grasp his forearms for balance. I gasped.

"But you won't find what you're looking for in here, so stop trying to chase me out into the night."I was trying desperately to regain some semblance of control.

"How am I doing that?"

I moved fast and got my balance back and stepped away from him as gracefully as possible.

"By flaunting yourself before me."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Flaunting. What an interesting word." He reached up and undid the first three buttons of his shirt, revealing hard muscles and soft chest hair. I was having a difficult time breathing with Edward so close to me. I bet that twisted son of a pagan knew exactly what he was doing to me. I couldn't keep my eyes off him. He was languorously licking his lower lip, _again_.

Good god, I felt so drunk. "I suppose it is my turn. You did the flaunting last time. I must say the audience in that nasty little Café in Cairo was most appreciative. Very few dancing girls have fights started over the."

I blushed deeply at the reminder.

"Oh, it wasn't me they were interested in. I paid them to start a distraction. I was perfectly safe; Aunt Saida and Rashid were with me in that awful place."

"Of course," he said surely realizing suddenly _whom_ my musicians had actually been.

He chuckled, "you were half naked –"

"Nowhere near to half."

"- but you were properly chaperoned."He appeared to be slightly appalled.

"I never find it wise to be alone with you, Edward."

He looked around the shadowed hall. "At least we have the princess with us now. Propriety is served," he smirked.

"You are almost being charming and amusing, but you're still not going to find what you're looking for," I snapped sarcastically.

He suddenly became very serious and looked straight through me.

"Maybe I have found what I'm looking for right _here_." His voice was low, a persuasive rumble.

_Oh my Lord._

Holy crow! My God, what his voice alone could do to me.

He took a step closer. I made a subtle stance as if I was about to take a step back should he go any further. He licked his almost red lower lip. His belt-less, wool trousers _still_ hung low on his hips, his white shirt's top three buttons _still_ undone.

I was shaking, and not out of fear or anger. Was my world so small and empty without him that all he needed to do was stand a few inches too near? How could I be so needy for him after all these years?

Anger fueled my next words. "Of all the distasteful and infuriating."

My words were as much for myself as they were for Edward. I could see in his eyes that he knew it, too. His laughter bit into me like the stinging blast of a sandstorm.

"Infuriating?" His sharp gesture took in the display in the museum hall. "You know what's infuriating, _Isabella_? That nobody but you and I know the truth about all this. Charlie's ruined your life, just as he's tried to ruin mine. You prop him up and keep his secrets – "

"And he keeps mine," I interrupted this unexpected diatribe. "How can I do anything in my chosen field without his help?"

"Do your own work in your own name. You're a brilliant researcher."

His words sent a secret shiver of pleasure through me, but it was my turn to laugh. "Edward, be serious. Every reputable journal publication will turn me away_. I am merely a woman_!"

"Don't I know it, sweet-heart."

I put a hand to halt him when he took another step toward me. "You're _still_ trying to distract me."

He shook his head and continued staring at my lips.

"Then fasten your shirt."My heart demanded though my body screamed '_NO'_.

"I am more comfortable this way."

"Deny that you broke in here trying to find something you have no right to."

His gaze swept over me, hot, possessive, and wholly unexpected.

"I know what's mine Isabella: _you_. Then. Now. And forever."

If the nearest object at hand hadn't been a three-thousand-year-old Cretan wine vessel, I would have picked it up and thrown it at him. I was still very tempted.

"I know why you're saying these things, but you're not going to manage to rattle me enough to find out anything." I retorted my body thoroughly heated.

I needed to remind myself the opportunist and the mercenary that Edward truly was. But damn was I tempted.

He took pity on me. "I broke in" – he assumed a lecturing air – "as a help to you. I felt that your security required testing before the complete collection was in place. And who better than a man of my considerable experience in these matters to conduct that test?"

"Who indeed?" I responded with a laugh. I couldn't help it.

"Your sarcasm wounds me."

"If I had a weapon at hand, you would have to worry about far more than sarcasm."

"Ah, but words can hurt."

I couldn't help it. I flinched. His words always left me either floating in a haze of want or in a ball of infuriating angst. But both intense feelings led to an undeniable _hurt._ Hurt to make him want me just as much as I wanted him. Hurt to make him continue to feed me his infuriating arrogance like myrrh to an oil lamp just so I can replay his every word before I slept alone to just wake up hurting to wanting him so much.

_Fuck_, I am a masochist.

He probably was able to read my mind just at the moment because we both went very still, certain that my face lost all expression, but undoubtedly the _hurt_ in my eyes made him react for he put out a hand.

"Bella?" He whispered gently. "I'm here to help you. That's all I want to do. I owe you my life. I want to do something to pay that debt. You think I came to Scotland because of what you found on Amorgis? I came here because of what happened to me there." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I have a chance here to reclaim my academic standing. To regain some of the respect your father's been undermining for years with the lies he's told about me."

"Why would Charlie lie about you?"I was near seething. I had asked that question before. He'd merely told me that my father would do anything to shore up his own reputation, that he was jealous. That their early disagreements on methodology and interpretation had escalated into personal dislike. All those things were true, but this time he gave me the underlying truth. I saw it in his fierce forest green eyes.

"Maybe because he thinks I raped his daughter."

The blunt words didn't shake me from what I tried to display; a cold, distant demeanor.

"Don't be ridiculous. He knows what happened."

"I'm glad he does, sweetheart, because I'm not sure I do."

Yes, he was definitely acting very odd tonight. What did he mean he is not sure what happened? Didn't he make it clear of what happened when he left just hours after? This was an even exchange between two souls that _had _a need, right?

I found him moving closer to me again and I couldn't help myself. This pretense, this coldness had evaporated the moment he walked in to the museum and I did not step away. Who knew better than he did how to fire my senses? I had to remember quickly as to why he was here with me. Until he took that final step bringing his taut body just before my own. His lower lip under complete assault from his moist tongue when he noted that I was biting into mine.

I held a moan and demanded, "What are you doing, Edward?" My voice sounded deep and strained.

"Teaching you that talk is irrelevant between us."

"There is nothing you can teach me." I was fading fast.

"Bella -"

My subconscious kept reminding me to take flight out of the grasp of this predator. But like a moth to the flame I could not look away. I suddenly felt my back against a pillar.

"-we barely got started last time."

"Last time – "I asked, dumbfounded.

He put his hands on my shoulders and pinned me against the cool, smooth marble. My palms came up to press against his chest, skin to skin. I gasped and he smiled as fire rushed through me at the point of connection. He pressed his weight against me with a hand in my lower back pulling me towards him. I felt his arousal in my stomach and couldn't help myself but raise my hands up his torso to his shoulders and press my body closer not letting even air between our connection.

_I want._

It was getting difficult to breathe. He bent his head until we were eye to eye, mouth to mouth.

"Trust me." He whispered the words against my lips. "This once, Isabella, trust _me_."

I knew it would be wiser to trust a pack of starving jackals, but I was aware of him in every fiber and molecule of my being. He was as close to me as my shadow, equally dark, but infinitely more substantial. Sometimes I dreamed that we were together like this, feverish, futile dreams that burst inside me in fiery glory only to wake alone and lonely.

He was here now – huge and commanding, reckless and ready to abandon every scruple. I could scream. I could fight. I could beg and plead.

Or I could kiss him.

Either way, I'd be alone and lonely in the morning.

But the morning was not now.

I cupped his face in my hands and drew his mouth down hard onto mine.

Within moments, I discovered that Edward was right about one thing: he had a great deal to teach me about kissing. And I was so eager to learn. Memory and instinct only went so far, but from the instant our lips touched, this delicious current and slight trembling deep in my core slid through me and hunger inexorably took control.

My hands caressed him in a long, slow slide from is face across his wide shoulders and down the tight muscles of his back. Edward was hard and smooth just as marble, but I felt his muscles quiver beneath the shirt, sensed the leashed power of the man. He smelled of almonds, myrrh, sand, and _Edward_.

I got close to his neck, running my nose from jaw to jaw. Smelling his scent again and again. I took him in deep and couldn't help a little moan after I exhaled. He groaned loudly and started to devour my lips and tongue while he gyrated his hips right in my center. I wanted to rip my dress and bustle off so I can feel him _more_. I was being wild and reckless while he held on hard to the control I wanted him to desperately lose. It wasn't right or fair that he not share in this moment of abandon with me. So I slid my hands up under his shirt and moved my hips ever so slightly.

He moaned against my mouth, his tongue thrust deeply, and I answered with an equally needy sound. His arm came around to the back of my leg his hand on the back of my knee and raised it slightly up, pulling me tightly against his –

"Ow!"

Edward whirled away. I stumbled forward, my senses reeling. I fell to the floor in a pool of skirts and barely caught myself from falling flat on my face. I heard the sound of blows above my head. Shadows swirled as Edward dodged his attacker. I could barely hear over my ragged breathing and pounding heartbeat.

"Ouch! Stop that!"Edward yelled, his body dodging an apparent assault.

"Stop it yourself! Take that!"

My head came up sharply as I recognized the voice, just in time to see a large black folded parasol land a sharp blow across Edward's backside.

"Ow! Quit!"

I might have laughed had circumstances been different. As it was, I jumped to my feet and threw myself between Edward and his attacker.

"Aunt Saida!" I put my hands up in front of her. "No! Stop!"

The parasol just barely missed me, but raindrops flew off it and splattered across my face.

"You should be ashamed!" Saida proclaimed, letting the parasol drop to her side. "Can't leave the two of you alone for a moment. I'd rather see you shooting at each other. Then at least I know you're safe from hurting each other."

I discovered that Edward and I were standing side my side, shoulders equally hunched. We shared a contrite glance and looked quickly away. I didn't know what had gotten into me. It had been insane and wrong and –

"Good thing I came to fetch you. I grew worried when the rain started and you weren't yet home." Aunt Saida grabbed my hand. "You are coming home with me right, young woman."

I had wanted my aunt to get out more, but this was not exactly what I had in mind. The small woman tugged me forward and I was too embarrassed not to go alone meekly.

I blushed crimson, I am certain of it.

Edward threw back his head, his laughter filling the dark, echoing hall. Lord but he had a magnificent laugh. Then he bowed and snatched up his tossed-aside coat and tie.

"Shall I see you ladies home? Show that I _can_ act like a gentleman? I am reforming my ways," he added to Saida.

"There is nothing wrong with your ways," Said answered him. "It is your timing that is always wrong."

His brow furrowed and gave her a graceful, Arab bow before walking briskly to the door and out of the building.

Leaving me with a sweet mixture of want and fury, _again_.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Twilight_. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **Dear reader, I appreciate the time you take to read. I endeavor to entertain and am glad that I am doing so. Thank you for reviewing and placing TR as one of your favorites. I'd like to especially thank Lilith617 for her unwavering support of this story, her precious time in making my words pretty, and for being her fuckawesome self.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

*~BPOV~*

"Aunt Saida is right. We really are safer shooting at each other," I mused aloud, as I walked through the village.

"What did you say?" Alice asked inquisitively.

"Nothing, Alice," I answered. I hated getting caught talking to myself. I might have given Alice a daunting look, but a yawn interrupted any attempt at being repressive.

"Did you sleep at all, Bella?" Rosalie asked with concern. "I heard you pacing long after you finally came in last night." Rose glanced up at the sultry pewter sky where rain threatened. "You don't look much better than the weather."

"Worse," Alice contributed brightly. "She's mad at Edward Masen again, I'll wager."

"Ladies don't wager," Rose informed Alice. But Alice ignored this etiquette lesson. "Bella always looks like a thunderstorm ready to hit when she's angry at Edward. What did he do this time, Bella?"

"I don't like his being here." I replied with confidence. It was the truth.

_No, it wasn't. I was horrid at telling lies._

Alice smiled. "But you don't want him to be anywhere else. They have a complicated relationship," Alice explained to Rosalie.

"We have _no_ relationship, Alice. Dr. Masen is a fraud and a cad. He's here to make trouble for me – for Charlie, that is."

"Maybe he just wants to attend the conference like everybody else. I think you're picking on him."

"I am not." I realized I risked descending into childish bickering, so I looked at Rose and said, "Nor am I overly tired. I merely have a great deal to think about." I smiled weakly.

Alice did not look convinced, but Rose fortunately turned her attention to the display in a shop window, and we each halted so that she could look over a selection of hats.

Aunt Saida, dressed in black bombazine and a huge bonnet that did a credible job of hiding her face, stood silently and watchfully behind us. She had left her isolation at home to play chaperone to her three nieces.

I understood that this implied mistrust of me but I didn't complain. I had even smiled sweetly and told her I was happy she donned one of her Western-style walking dresses and made a pleasant comment that a little activity would do us all good if it took a threat to my virtue from Edward Masen to get Aunt Saida out of the house. Either way I was grateful for it.

It was market day in Muirford, with outdoor stalls lining the narrow main street. Country folk were there to do their shopping, as were townsfolk, people from the University, and visitors staying at the Hotel.

To my eyes the hustle and bustle of Muirford's market day was more exotic than the great bazaar of Cairo. And thinking of shopping in the bazaar gave me the urge to pull my shawl across my face modestly- like a veil. I shook my head at such an impulse here in my native land and breathed in the damp Scottish air. Perhaps this wasn't the Khan el-Kalili, but the detour through town on the way to the conference hall had been worth the extra walk.

I considered the night before as I walked along between my sisters. It was all one long nightmare. _Or dream._ One that was far from over: as I could still taste him on my tongue. The texture of his skin still pressed into my lips and palms. How could he have done this to me? How could I have done this to myself?

I had thought I was in control of the situation. I'd thought kissing him to be a logical decision. As it turned out, all the man had to do was unbutton his shirt and what little sense I had flew out the window.

How had I let it be so easy for him? And what was he really up to? If he was desperate enough to use seduction to achieve his ends…well, he might play rough, but he'd never played so unfairly before. We'd had unwritten rules over the years, cultivating indifference, speaking of our shared night only obliquely until…had it been only yesterday?

What had gotten into him?

Worse, what had gotten into _me_?

And why was I blaming myself _now_?

Because of the lecture Aunt Saida gave me on the walk home? I hadn't actually listened to what Aunt Saida said; concentrating too hard on purging the scorching need and _want_ that sang through my blood. Even the cold rain and Aunt Saida's stinging annoyance had done little to help cool my body and thoughts of Edward. Hours later, desire _still_ coursed through me. That and a lack of sleep did nothing to help my mood this morning.

The point I needed to concentrate on was that whatever Edward Masen claimed he wanted, no matter how he tried to get around me, what he was really after was the Alexandrian treasure.

_You don't want respectability, and you certainly don't want me. You are a craven cur to try to use me so, Edward Masen. Do you think I was born yesterday? That one kiss will bring me 'round to doing whatever you want? Even at seventeen I was not so naïve!_

"She's thinking hard," Alice leaned around me to say to Rose. "Can't you smell the smoke coming out of her ears from the effort?"

"You're not amusing," I told my younger sister. "Not at all."

"And grumpy besides," Alice continued.

"You could be exercising Saladin right now, you know," I pointed out. "No one's making you attend a historical lecture."

"I'm trying to improve my mind," Alice said. "And it was either attend the lecture with you or spend the day with Aunt Lauren. She wants to teach me how to tat."

"Tatting is a womanly art," Rose smiled. "It's kind of her to offer you lessons."

Tatting, as I recalled from my own long-ago lessons, was a deadly dull form of lace making that women practiced to help fight off boredom as they gossiped. I knew some women actually enjoyed such activities, and the results of handicrafts were lovely and useful, but such things were not for me – or for Alice, who shared my unladylike tastes in almost everything.

_And is being like me a good thing?_ I wondered with a guilty look at Alice. What good did a love of history, languages, and adventure do for a woman when the world offered so few opportunities to express that love?

"Maybe you should be home tatting," I whispered. "Perhaps we all should be."

"And miss out on the fun of watching Rose make sheep's eyes at eligible young men?" Alice replied. "Not for the world." She laughed loudly. I joined her; she had an infectious laughter.

"I," Rose said with a toss of her head, "am too discreet to make sheep's eyes." She gave a girlishly wicked smile, confident in her power. "I certainly expect to distract Professor Carter, though. And all I shall have to do is sit demurely in the visitor's gallery with my hands folded in my lap and pretend that I don't know he's worshipping at my feet. I wonder if Dr. Emmett Cullen will be there?" she added, sounding far more excited at _that_ prospect.

I wondered what it was like to feel various degrees of attraction to several young men. Normal, I suppose, and I was delighted in Rosalie's normalcy. I, however, had been cursed by a relentless fixation on one man.

_Edward._

Rosalie giggled. "Who's making sheep eyes now?"

_Was I that obvious?_ Surprised I looked to Rose who was smiling knowingly to Alice who was looking at the sharp dressed Jasper Whitlock. Mr. Whitlock was in a heated conversation with an older distinguished gentleman walking slowly towards our destination, the lecture hall, with his aide, Spiros, in tow.

We all met at the lecture hall steps. Jasper smiled warmly, "Good morning, ladies. Good to see you again, Mrs. Swan," he said to Saida. His eyes landed and stayed on Alice for a second before gesturing towards the thickset, gray-haired man at his side. "May I present Dr. DeClercq?"

_DeClercq! _

"I knew your late husband, Mrs. Swan," DeClercq said after everyone was introduced all around. "And, of course, I am familiar with your father's sterling work," the famous Belgian historian said to me. "We look forward to his presenting his paper."

I blushed furiously. _My paper heard by one of my favorite researchers!_

Alice made a noise that would have gotten her sent to her room if we'd been at home. DeClercq and Rose did not take notice. I pretended not to have heard, though Jasper raised an eyebrow with a smirk, and Aunt Saida stifled any further comment from the girl with a look.

"Our father greatly admires the work you have done," I told him star struck. "And he asked me to convey his regrets that he has to attend an unexpected faculty meeting rather than today's conference session."

The truth was that Charlie had to spend the day fending off yet another whim of Sir Michael. Though the curriculum in ancient studies had already been set, he'd taken it into his head to name a chair in ancient Celtic Scotland studies. This threw the whole history department, which Charlie was to head, into chaos.

"I, too, admire the work you've done in Egypt," I told one of my heroes. "And I'm so glad you survived the awful attack on your expedition."

DeClercq brushed his side-whiskers. "Why, thank you, young woman."

"Will you be presenting a paper today?" I asked, eyeing a frowning Rosalie through my periphery, her warningly glare at my eagerness doing nothing to quell my excitement.

God_, please let me hear this man present a paper in my lifetime_. "On your interpretation of the tomb drawings at Irbidi, perhaps?"

Jasper raised both eyebrows at me.

"I'm afraid I have no lecture prepared," he answered. "I am here only to learn from the work of others and to show support for a young colleague of mine who deserves far more respect than he receives." He brushed his whiskers with the back of his hand again. "You know his name, I think, though I doubt your father would wish me to discuss the gentleman with his family."

"Masen?" I burst out before I could stop myself.

_Why_ _did everything always come back to Edward?_

"Masen? After he disposed of half the Irbidi find for his own gain?" I was shocked, if anything, I would think DeClercq would abhor all that Edward stood for.

DeClercq looked appalled. "Where on earth did you hear such nonsense, my girl?"

_What?_

"I saw him selling looted treasure in Cairo with my own eyes!" I shot back.

I was suddenly aware of the small crowd gathering around us – scholars who had arrived for a quiet morning of intellectual pursuits, drawn instead to the sight of a world-famous historian being faced by a silly woman who dared to argue with him.

Oh, God, what was I doing? What was I thinking? I wasn't thinking, of course. Edward was involved.

Dr. DeClercq rocked backed on his heels, looking both amused and bemused. "And how is it you saw Masen disposing of the relics?"

_While disguised by a Muslim woman stalking him through the markets of Cairo._

"Th-that isn't important. What is important, sir is that he seems to have somehow convinced you that he's an honest man."

"Honest and honorable," DeClercq answered. "But I understand your concern, child. You see, the truth that neither he nor I could reveal, in the political climate of Egypt, was that our expedition was taken captive, and not by any ordinary bandits. I and several other members of our group were held in the stronghold of a high official in the Khedive government."

"Shocking," someone behind me murmured. "Such corruption!"

DeClercq looked over my head at the man who'd spoken. He smiled as he said, "You have not done fieldwork have you, young man? One learns to deal with corruption and demands for _baksheesh_ soon enough if one wishes to work in Egypt and the Levant."

"And one easily becomes corrupted," I murmured.

DeClercq's attention returned to me, as Jasper's eyes narrowed while he spoke, "I'm afraid you misjudge my friend badly, Miss Swan."

"I've known him for ten years, sir," I responded.

"And I nearly as long, and better," he informed me.

_Oh!_

"I have also known Masen for just as long. We work well together, unlike his relationship with your father. I hope to work with him again quite soon. I know his insightfulness, his daring and intelligence. I also owe him my life."

"He's a brave man," I conceded. "But personal bravery hardly excuses his…appropriations." I could not bring myself to call Edward an outright thief in front of all these people.

"He used the money from those so-called appropriations to save lives, young woman. He used the sale of a hidden cache of artifacts to free me and others from a rather unpleasant imprisonment. But the brigands wanted even more. Providing the ransom they demanded was a slow process, involving dealing with some unpleasant characters."

"Haroun," I said. "That's why he worked with Haroun?"

"One of the reasons," Jasper snarled.

"Just so," DeClercq went on. "There were five people to be free, one at a time, with no government authority he could turn to for help. Had he not been discreet, we would have died."

My head reeled. I did not believe I was hearing this. Blood pounded in my temples and lights sparked behind my eyes. I realized that I was holding my breath, and let it out in a rush as DeClercq went relentlessly on. He was warmed to his subject and pleased to have an audience.

"A. Edward Masen is the reason I am here today," he told them all. "No matter what you have heard about him, he had good reasons for it all."

_Good reasons_ everything I'd believed for nearly a decade crumbling to dust.

_Good reasons?_ He said that to me before.

"I wasn't that discreet," a familiar Yankee voice drawled, practically in my ear.

I whirled to face him. From the corner of my eye I could see that others in the crowd were smiling, but Edward looked tense and deadly serious.

I stared at his emerald gaze. A decade's worth of memories and conversations were being flashed in my mind with lightning speed. All I could do was look at him and he at me.

"Masen! Speak of the devil," DeClercq patted Edward's back.

The men started speaking at each other and the crowd began to dissipate but all I could do was look at him. I couldn't make out a word that was exchanged between them. He frequently kept looking back at me while my mind went through a catalogue of memories without order or logic.

Images flew relentlessly through my mind. Of course, he hadn't tried to tell me. What had he said in all those years? "_I'm not as bad as you think, sweetheart_." That could have meant anything! Or nothing.

Besides, Charlie had said…

And how long had it been since I'd put complete faith in the words and deeds of self righteous, self-involved Charlie Swan? I was not blind to the man's faults but he was my father. Surely he wasn't capable of outright lying to me. When all was said and done, Charlie was a good man just a grossly oblivious one with a love for Alexander the Great and an abstract but possessive attachment to his children.

The point here wasn't what Charlie had said and done, the point was Edward Masen. It always was, and always would be. He was here with reputable, honest historians. Only an hour ago I'd questioned his right to mingle with the elite in the history field; now it looked as though Dr. A. Edward Masen was exactly where he belonged.

"Bella?" Alice tugged at my elbow. "Bella, we need to go."

"Bella?" Rose put her hand on my arm.

Saida stepped in front of me. "I think," she said, firmly drawing me toward the door, "that the session is about to begin." She gestured for Alice and Rose to join us. "It is time we took our places in the women's section."

I went, almost blind and deaf with reaction. I just nodded to my family. Edward and his company were still at the lecture hall's steps. As we walked past them Edward called after us, "It's not as if I haven't tried to tell you before."

I smiled to myself. After the shock of all that DeClercq laid before me, I couldn't help but to feel proud of Dr. Edward Masen.

oOoOoOoOoOo

He hadn't. Not really. Had he?

I drummed my fingers nervously on the dark, smooth wood of the gallery railing while someone at the podium droned on about something or another that I would have found fascinating before the world came crashing apart.

I felt scattered. I hated that I felt at all, and wished I could simply stop. Impressions came and went, and I developed a hideous, throbbing headache. I was already exhausted, groggy from too little sleep, my sense stripped down to aching, feverish nerve endings from a few moments of forbidden passion the night before.

And now _this_.

I was proud of him, though it stung me that I was the outsider and interloper here, relegated to being a mere observer of the discussions of learned men. And there was no use of pouting over the unfairness of life either when I very well knew it was only a way of directing my thoughts away from facing the unpleasant pleasant truth.

"_You stole it and I want it back!"_

_I faced Edward across the width of the inn's stone tiled terrace. A trellis of grapevines arched over my head, giving comforting shade from the Mediterranean sun. A basket of lemons was on the table beside me, and huge painted pots of bright red geraniums decorated each corner of the terrace. It had been a bright, pleasant place where I'd been sipping my tea and reading until Edward came storming up the dusty road to shatter the early morning peace. _

"_You stole it first," I pointed out to the beautiful, angry man before me._

"_I discovered the existence of the papyrus independent of you."_

"_That isn't what Charlie says."_

"_He's a liar."_

"_And you are a tomb robber, a mercenary, a thief."_

_He sneered. "It's a living, sweetheart."_

"_Disreputable cad."_

"_If you say so."_

"_And please don't shout; you'll wake everyone in the inn."_

"_And you have a hard day ahead of you," he added before I could. "I've already been out to the site. The diggers are opening a tomb _I_ should have discovered today."_

"_It's not Alexander's tomb, so I don't know what you're making a fuss about." We had hoped to have found the resting place of a captain of Alexander's bodyguards. It was possible that there was information buried with the guard that would lead to Alexander's resting place._

"_I'm not making a fuss over the tomb. The fuss, sweetheart, is over your stealing the map that leads to said tomb."_

_He only called me sweetheart when he was at his most mocking and angry. His dark eyes sparked with a fury that sent an electric shiver through me. "Stealing from a thief is hardly a crime," was my haughty reply._

"_Isn't it?" was his furious response. "Which one of us has gotten her ethics a little twisted?"_

"Bella?"

I turned my head toward my sister, and Rose thrust a handkerchief under my nose. I sniffed. "What's that for?"

"You're crying."

"Oh." I took the square of embroidered linen.

For a moment my thoughts lingered on that last argument before the accident, on the flash in Edward's eyes, on his unruly hair, and on how the morning sun had bronzed his skin. Even furious at him, because let's be honest, when was I not furious at him? My fingers always itched to brush through the satin thickness of his hair.

I dabbed at my eyes and cheeks, sniffed again. I must look a fright. How long had this sniffling been going on? "I have something in my eye," I told Rose.

"Of course you do," Rose answered. "Something about the size of a pyramid, I should imagine."

"Just about." I noticed that the speaker had left the podium, and the audience was taking a break while waiting for the next person to be announced. There were people standing in small groups, others were moving toward the door. This was a good opportunity to make an exit myself.

I turned to Aunt Saida, "I do have a great deal to do. There are still finishing touches to be put on the exhibit for tonight." She nodded slowly and I rose.

What if Edward were to take the podium next? There had been a great many changes and additions to the conference program since I'd helped work out the schedule, and I wasn't ready for any more surprises today. I wasn't ready to look at him right now, even from the distance of the visitor's gallery.

"I have to go." My head was pounding.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"This is terrible." Reverend Newton stood in the middle of the hallway downstairs, blocking the door and wringing his hands. Professor Banner was with him looking sympathetic.

"I knew no good would come of bringing strangers here," proclaimed the minister, who'd opened this morning's session of the conference with prayers. Whatever his bad news might be, I wasn't interested. I only wanted to get away. But I had to get past the men to make my escape.

No one budged at my approach. In fact, both men blocked my way. I could not avoid pausing to greet them.

"Good morning."

"There is nothing good about it, young woman." Reverend Newton shook a finger under my nose. "You're that historian's girl, aren't you? Your father persuaded Sir Michael Muir to build his temple of Satan right here in our godly village. And look what's happened! Corruption already settling in and this so called seat of higher learning not even officially open yet. Desecration!"

The man was red-faced and very agitated. I noticed that Banner had already inched away. Why was I always left to deal with every blasted crisis that came up? I would like to brusquely brush past the man and go about my business, but that was not politic. Nor was it possible, Newton was round as he was tall, and he was a tall man. I sighed and gave him my full attention.

"Desecration? Was there something in the presentation you disapproved of?" I didn't recall who had spoken or what his paper had been about, but if it had seemed at all blasphemous –

"I'm not concerned about some fool speech, girl! I'm talking about my graveyard!"

My heart and stomach lurched painfully. "The cemetery next to the church?"

"Of course, the one next to the church! My sexton's just brought word of the outrage! I can't bear the thought of seeing what's been done to the resting places of our righteous dead." He gestured wildly, "A stranger's work. The Devil's work. I kept my peace about misgivings until now, but I knew no good would come of Sir Michael Muir bringing outsiders into the town where he was born. Aye, I knew no good would come to it."

"Get out my way," I shouted.

_I had to see it!_

Newton obviously bridled at my cold, commanding tone. "What?"

"Move." When he did nothing but stare at me, I put out my hands and shoved against his huge belly.

It was outrage more than anything else that pushed him backwards. "Wha'? Yon strumpet, what de y'think you're doin'?"

I slipped past the mountainous reverend, hiked up my skirts, and ran; leaving him erupting invective like an outraged volcano as I sped away.

"Impudent _Sassenach_ wench!"

_Why would anyone vandalize an old cemetery?_

I had to see it for myself just to make sure…


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Twilight_. Stephenie Meyer does. Scotland's possible historical theories are based on research documented on Cameron Taylor's and Allistair Murray's _On the Trail of the Real MacBeth; King of Alba.___No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **We are at homestretch here tomb robbettes, I anticipate a couple more chapters and an epilogue. *sniff* Continued thanks to Lilith617 for her unwavering support and for giving Egyptward the words to express his rage…you'll see. Enjoy!

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

~*EPOV*~

A cold sweat broke over me, as I took in the packed-to-the-hilt lecture hall. I would present my paper shortly, after O'Neal, but that wasn't the reason why I felt the tornado in my stomach. I was nervous about my next encounter with Isabella Swan. She apparently was speechless about what she learned about me from DeClercq.

_Fuck!_

How many times did I try to tell her? Wait, did I? Would she have believed me? Would things have changed between us? She appeared as though she had lost the map to the next oasis in the desert. Would she treat me differently? Would our heated exchanges end?

My knee started bobbing up and down, and my seat started to make a noise that made Emmett raise an eyebrow- I needed to see her. She must be confused, and if I know Isabella Swan, I know she would find a way to make herself accountable in some way.

Emmett shoved my ribs. "Come on; let's get some fucking fresh air. You are starting to look green."

Finally, intermission; _I was up next!_

I could only nod at Emmett, as I followed him out of the lecture hall. Out of my periphery I noted that fucking Crowley was here following DeClercq, like a puppy, outside. Emmett and I were waiting for Jasper in the lecture hall's foyer when we heard some shouting outside. We followed the noise out, and saw Reverend Newton with Professor Banner.

"What's all the shouting about?" Crowley asked DeClercq.

The Vicar's colorful swearing had drawn everyone's attention out of the discussions most historians have during intermission. The commotion was a fine diversion; there was so much I could discuss of Professor O'Neal's droning discourse on Etruscan musical instruments.

"I'm not quite sure, exactly," DeClercq answered, as Emmett and I joined them at the edge of the milling crowd. "From the sounds of it, the Vicar was first upset about an act of vandalism at the church, but he seems to have gone off on a new tangent."

"Impudent _Sassenach_ wench!"

My attention was more on the men who'd come out of the hall with Spiros, than on the angry giant, who was mad as a wet hen at somebody. This was the second mob scene of the day, and I suspected Bella was somehow again involved.

_Where the fuck was Jasper?_

"What's a _Sassenach_?" Emmett asked with a loud laugh.

More importantly, who were the men with Spiros? Were they the Hoplite fanatics Jasper had warned me about? As if the existence of a two thousand year old secret order didn't imply fanaticism in all its members. There was a certain amount of honor and trust built up between Jasper and I, and he had convinced me that he would never do anything to harm Alice or Rose Swan. That wasn't very reassuring when it came to Bella's fate, but knowing the girls were safe gave me less to worry about.

I knew Jasper would give me at least a few more days to find the treasure. Before I'd completely lost my head last night, I had come to the conclusion that the treasure was not hidden anywhere _inside_ the museum. I'd carefully explored the central display room Swan was setting up to hold the treasure, but the crown, cup and other grave goods were not in the building. That was not good news for me, meaning it might ultimately be very bad news for Bella. She was too clever by half. I couldn't help but smile at the thought and be furiously frustrated, as well.

Just like last night, I had completely lost my head. I had hardly slept, I kept thinking about her delicious pouty lips on mine, knowing that I'd be forever addicted to her taste.

_Honey and fire._

Her soft curves molded perfectly against mine. _God_, she had met my passion with blossoming desire, her body moved restlessly against me, and the air around us had charged with the energy of a thousand torches, pulsing to the rhythm of my pounding heart.

She did this to me.

She alone.

I was _hers_.

_Good God, man! Keep it together_. Right.

Above all else, Jasper wanted to keep his secret society secret, but the newcomers stood out like sore thumbs. The men who flanked Spiros were large, furtive-looking, and obviously out of place in their ill-fitting suits. They looked like street thugs, not university students. The Hoplites' ancestors had been members of Alexander's elite bodyguard, and this pair looked to be direct descendants of a couple of very hard-bitten soldiers.

"Presumptuous slut!" the Minister ranted on, "daring to strike a man of the cloth."

"What's he on about?" Crowley asked Emmett.

"I believe that at first it was because some vandals knocked over some gravestones in the cemetery. He tends to slip into the local dialect when he's excited," he laughed.

Crowley ventured to approach the angry Vicar. "Sir? _Reverend_? Perhaps if you would-"

"That chit struck me! What do they teach women in the outside world? I won't have loose women invading Muirford."

"Miss Swan was deeply upset about the desecration in the graveyard," Banner explained.

_Just like I suspected, Bella was involved. That woman was a magnet for mischief._

"Bella has firm opinions about grave robbing," I agreed, half my attention still on the Hoplites in the back of the crowd.

_So, Bella was not safely ensconced up in the visitor's gallery…_

"Miss Swan was a bit brusque with Reverend Newton when he wouldn't allow her to leave the building-"

"So she pushed him out of the way," I concluded.

_Of course she did._

"The man was rude not to let the lady pass. Poor Miss Swan probably needed some fresh air after hearing about such gruesome matters," Crowley suggested.

"The woman's been excavating graves since you were a pup," I snapped. "I'll thank you to give her the respect she deserves, you young fool."

"Wicked strumpet!" Newton raved on, red-faced with fury.

_That was fucking it!_ My blood boiled with fury, as a reddened haze consumed my vision. I had had enough. I would not stand idle no more.

I stepped up to the huge vicar. "_Strumpet_?" I asked voice low and dangerous. "No one calls _my_ woman that."

Piggy-eyes focused on me. "I'll call-"

One hard punch to the jaw laid the big man out.

Many people in the crowded foyer gasped. DeClercq and Cullen hooted with laughter and clapped in approval. I shook my bruised hand and gave my supporters a wry shrug.

Crowley stepped up to me and said quietly, "I haven't a snowball's chance in hell with Miss Swan, have I?"

I looked him squarely in the eye. "_None_, whatsoever."

_The sooner you fucking realize that the better, kid. _

I glanced away from Crowley and into the crowd, Spiros was still there, but his companions were gone. I swore under my breath, fuck, stepped over the supine Reverend Newton, and ran from the building.

As always, towards Bella…_Always _towards Bella.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Thought I'd find you here."

"Hello, Edward." She wasn't surprised to hear me.

"It's an old graveyard," I said, coming up behind Bella, placing my hand on her shoulder.

_I had to touch her. _

She was looking down into a disturbed grave; quite a few moss-covered head stones lay scattered about around us, and it was hard to tell which ones had fallen over by themselves, and which had been pushed down by the vandals. The place had an abandoned look to it, tucked away as it was in a stand of woods near the old stone church. Mausoleums stood on either side of the cemetery. The one to the left was worn, abandoned-looking little building that could have dated back to the middle ages. The tomb on the right was brand-spanking new, polished white stone with a bronze door, flanked by carved figures of weeping angels. A statue of a kilted warrior brandishing a claymore stood guard on top of its roof, Sir Michael's future resting place, I presume.

After silence stretched out a few seconds more, and Bella's shoulder grew tense beneath my touch, I spoke again. Uncertain and nervous for what seemed a long time. "Not as old as we're used to, perhaps…"

She didn't answer, and I fucking tried to not concentrate on the spot of smooth, bare skin that showed at the nape of her neck, between the collar of her dress and the thick twist of hair firmly pinned behind her head. Had I ever kissed her on that lovely, vulnerable spot? No, I don't believe I had. There were a great many places I haven't kissed. Her ears, for example. She had lovely, small, pink ears. I wonder if the arch of her foot was erotically sensitive, or the base of her spine. I tried unsuccessfully to suppress my deep groan. It had been a waste of ten long years, when I could have been exploring the sweet secrets of her lovely body.

A fucking waste of time as I thought of how I claimed her mine in my tent. Fuck, you are getting distracted.

_Get a grip, Masen!_

I shifted my gaze carefully around the silent graveyard, alert to any noise or movement. I'd half hoped there'd be a crowd of outraged villagers here investigating the damage, but the entire community seemed to be shopping at the village market. Of course, if I hadn't cold-cocked the Vicar, the man might have gone off and informed his flock of the outrage to their ancestors. I hadn't seen either Spiros' friends on the way to the cemetery, and I couldn't see them lurking among the trees or headstones now, but that didn't mean they weren't there. Come to think of it…

"And why are you here?" I asked Bella.

She sighed and slipped from my grasp to turn and face me. "I wanted to see the damage for myself. All this vandalism is starting to worry me."

She looked almost frightened, so unlike Bella. I put my hands on her shoulders and drew her closer, wanting to put my arms around her and draw her closer still. "You haven't accused me of the vandalism yet. You might feel better if you did," I joked.

I'd hoped she'd laugh, but my words managed to draw only a faint smile from her. "You're not on my list of suspect's angel."

"Angel," I answered her smile with one of my own. It had been so long since I heard her call me that.

"Haven't heard that from your lips in a long time. You and Alice-"

"Alice – the evil pixie – is fond of you," she laughed, lightly.

I wanted to ask if she was fond of me, even just a little but I was afraid of the answer.

"It seemed like the right thing to call you," she went on. "For several reasons," she muttered.

This sounded interesting. I bet I can make her fluster and blush that delicious pink. I cocked my head teasingly to one side, "Like what?"

It worked. She blushed, and I could not help but lean in towards that blush. "You always seemed larger than life to me. Heroic," she whispered. Her blush deepened, and I swear I felt the heat of it on my skin.

"But _angel_?" I gave a soft, bitter laugh. "Hardly."

"I was rather young when my first impression of you was formed."

"Too young to know better," I agreed, and decided to move to safer ground. "You're the one who's the hero, Isabella."

_I hadn't let a little thing like not being wanted at the Amorgis excavation get in my way. I went to the dig site, and had been getting nothing but hostile looks from Bella all day. Charlie didn't dare try to have me expelled from the area in case he made a scene in front of the man Swan depended on for financing; so Swan tried his best to pretend that I didn't even exist. The first thing I had done was strike up a conversation with Swan's rich patron, of course, it turned out that Sir Michael Muir was a smart, hardheaded businessman, and I was from a family of hardworking, practical businessmen. We had far more in common than an aesthete nobleman with pretentions of scholarship. So, when the workers cleared the last of the rubble away from the tomb entrance, and Swan approached his patron to invite him to be the first to enter, I managed to wrangle an invitation to join his new friend in his moment of triumph._

_Swan looked like he was ready to explode, but he didn't complain._

_I was gleeful – for about six seconds. That was how long it took before I looked at Bella and saw how his vindictiveness had spoiled this moment for her. I might have backed down, made some excuse to Muir, but Charlie sneered and Bella turned her back on me, and I had to go through with it._

_Sir Michael and I took up lanterns and made our way into the dark, stone-lined underground chamber. The trap we walked into had been laid two thousand years before, but it was triggered with exact precision all the same. The noise was horrendous when the walls collapsed and the darkness came down, but I could have sworn I heard a distant voice call out, "Edward!"_

_It was the memory of that voice that I hung on to all those painful, terrifying hours later, trapped in absolute darkness._

_And when the last stone was pulled away, and the light came back into my world again, that familiar voice is what I heard first, "Edward, talk to me angel."_

_The second was the feel of her hands soothing the hair of my brow. The third, the taste of her tears. And lastly, I saw the bloody cuts on her gentle hands._

"You saved my life," I told her now, coming back from that nightmare that had ended with the heavenly bliss of Bella Swan holding me in her arms. I owed her my life, and far more – she, who had never asked me for anything.

I didn't know when I had moved so close to her, but her face was tilted up appealingly as she answered, "I wasn't the only one involved in your rescue."

"But you're the one who wouldn't let the diggers stop even after two days, when they insisted it was hopeless."

"I knew you weren't dead," she whispered.

I found that I was holding her face cupped in my hands, her skin a warm satin against my palms. "How?"

"I…just _knew_." Her words were breathy; her lips so very close to mine.

There was a look in Bella's dark, beautiful eyes that I had never seen before. Familiar but strange, raw and honest. Terrifying. Alluring. Lord knew what she saw in my eyes, I had never felt so naked myself, not even on that long-ago night. My limbs felt oddly heavy, my heart ached, and my lids drooped languidly closed. Caught in a dark spell, I could only succumb to undeniable need. My lips brushed against hers, a gentle, feather-light touch- almost a memory, almost a wish.

It was not wishful thinking when I pulled her tightly against me. We fitted too perfectly, yielding and firm in all the right places. The kiss moved swiftly from gentleness to hunger, sweet, deep, and frantic.

And over far too quickly.

We both heard the noise from behind a nearby headstone, and both reacted with equal swiftness, whirling out of our tight embrace, our already heightened senses alert for danger. We stood back to back a split second later, our gazes scanning the graveyard.

"See anything?" I asked, my breath ragged but my tone sharply alert.

"No"

"Probably a stray cat."

"Or the sexton returning, more likely," Bella answered, remembering where we were and what had happened. She stepped reluctantly away from my back, then walked to the rusty iron fence surrounding the churchyard, and gazed up the lane toward the village. "Reverend Newton and his flock approach."

Bella stood stiff and still while I did a quick circle around the headstones and mausoleums. "Time we were gone, I think," I said, joining her by the gate. "The good reverend might sic a lynch mob on both of us if we're here when he arrives."

"I was rather rude to him, "she admitted.

"You and I both, sweetheart."

Bella stepped through the gate. I lingered just inside the graveyard, with some distance between us, she said. "We really should not have done that."

I put my hands behind my back and contemplated her. My expression serious, jeez she should really narrow it down. I raised an eyebrow, "There are several things we should not have done. Which are you referring to?"

This was hardly the time for conversation. Besides, she seemed very much for both of us to be away from the cemetery. Don't blame her, I didn't want to face and deal with Reverend Newton and his mob.

"I have duties, Dr. Masen. And you have a paper to give. Go dazzle the masses, Edward."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"You don't look good." I realized what I'd said even before Bella turned a cutting look at me. "That's a nice dress, but it doesn't suit you at all," I added hastily. She was wearing a very feminine pale yellow and blue print frock with ribbon and lace trim.

My bluntness, apparently, drew a smile from her. "Rose will be happy to hear that. It's hers."

I had told myself that I was not going to bother with the party at the museum; I was going to spend the evening searching for the treasure. The sooner it was found, the sooner Bella would be safe, and the sooner I could leave. Right? That was the plan.

After I had given my paper, my companions urged me to celebrate with dinner at the hotel. I had finally saw Jasper, he was reluctant to unveil that he had walked the Swan ladies home soon after O'Neal's discourse.

My dinner companions asked for my company to the museum with them, they were all anxious to see this preview exhibit- I only wanted to see Bella, and she was the first I saw. Standing by a column near the door, looking weary and distracted and utterly lovely – even if I preferred her in the simple, severe practical garb I was used to seeing her wear. The sight of Bella Swan standing in the sun always sent a shiver of desire through me. She'd be wearing a plain brown walking skirt, her slender waist, and high round breasts outlined by a tailored white shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat would be shadowing the precise angles of her cheekbones, her jaw and the lovely width of her mouth. Wearing that plain outfit, she was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. The way she looked in a split riding skirt and a pith helmet was devastating- especially if she was carrying a rifle.

_Good god, I was hardening again. _

There was something utterly scorching about a heavily armed Isabella Swan. No matter what she did or wore, Bella of the perfect posture and brisk, economical movements, Bella the unconsciously graceful, was a glorious sight that left me more in awe than any view of the Pyramids.

_I should have told her_, I thought, regret boiling in me. _I should have just opened my mouth and told her._

Except she wouldn't have believed me. Hell, a good part of the time I was too much of a fool to believe it myself. I'd let anger, hurt, and pride get in the way early in our relationship, and it became habitual, almost comforting. It was easier to work at provoking her ire than at redeeming the sins of the past. It was a pity we had no future together. Fate was a bitch with an ironic sense of humor, and fate dictated that in order to save Bella I must betray her. Again. The worst, damnably painful irony of all was that this final betrayal came when I was finally man enough to acknowledge the passion for her that had never died.

It was a good thing that we were in a crowd, I decided, even if we were on the fringes of it. I gestured toward the center of the hall, where Charlie Swan and Sir Michael Muir stood at the head of the mummy case. Swan was holding forth importantly while his audience stared at the shriveled, linen-wrapped figure inside the heavy glass. "The princess is attracting most of the attention, I see."

"She hasn't gotten out much in the last few millennia," She answered. "She deserves a bit of fussing over. She is a princess, after all – or so I've decided to believe. We didn't find her with the grave good, if you recall, but in a separate tomb nearby."

"Rather like you didn't find Alexander's grave goods with him, but you did find them? That was the rumor I heard on Amorgis while I was recovering. But let's not talk about the treasure," I added, as her expression went blank and her eyes turned hard.

I placed my hand over my heart. "I don't want to talk about your secret find. I'll be content to wait for the grand exhibit at the end of the conference to see what you really found."

_And if that should happen, I would be a complete fail...no! I cannot think that way; I would run, run away with her and keep her away from Jasper._

"Charlie," she hissed. "What Charlie found."

"We don't have to lie between us, Bella," I snarled.

She opened her mouth, and I was certain she was going to say _Yes, we do,_ but she closed her mouth and took a deep breath instead. When she did speak, it was to say, "Dr. DeClercq admires you a great deal."

"And you admire him. So now you think you have to admire me?" I stepped closer to her. She backed up a step, and we ended with the pillar between us and the crowded center of the hall. "You don't have to admire me if you don't want to, Bella. You really don't."

"I can't very well take back what I heard this morning, can I? I can't take back the whole day, though I wish I could."

"Should I apologize for kissing you? Would that help?"

"No."

"It wouldn't change what happened," I retorted. _What the fuck? Was kissing me so bad?_ "And I'm not sorry I did it. You ought to be kissed more often, Bella." _By only me_, I added silently.

"Why?"

Her genuine puzzlement made me smile; it was not a mocking smile, despite the thunderous frown she gave me. "What's the matter? You seem too tired to even get a good argument going. Just how bad a day has it been?"

I stepped back and ticked off points on my fingers. "No sleep. DeClercq. The rude Reverend."

"You know about that?"

"You didn't answer my question. Let's see, you're worried that the history department will somehow be blamed for the vandalism in the graveyard. I kissed you, what else went wrong with your day?"

"Something much worse than being kissed by you," she confided.

Fear shot through me for a moment, as it occurred to me that she knew the Hoplites were after her. Then I had a moment's hope that the Hoplites had recovered their treasure and she was upset because it was missing. No, if the treasure was gone, she'd have accused me of the crime by now. A quick glance around the pillar assured me that none of the Hoplite contingent was nearby- Spiros and Jasper were with the rest of the guests. The group was on the move, following Charlie the short distance from the center of the hall to the tall case holding the jewelry and other small treasures.

I turned my attention back to Bella. "What is worse than kissing me?" I growled. "Did dear old dad find out about our indiscretion in the graveyard?"

She put her hand across her delicious lips for a moment, hiding a smile, but I saw a faint bit of humor in her eyes. It faded too fast. "For a moment I thought he had," she admitted, and giggled. "When he came storming into the house and demanded to see me in the library, I thought, _Oh dear, it's the convent for me!"_

"Good thing you're not Catholic. What was his problem?"

"Macbeth," she answered, flatly.

"The play?"

"The king. The real one"

"Macbeth's real?"

"Yes. Apparently he was king of Scotland sometime in the eleventh century. Ruled from the Hebrides or the Orkneys or some other cold, remote islands up off the north coast."

"_Really_?" I was intrigued.

"Yes. According to Sir Michael, Macbeth and his lady wife were great rulers, much maligned by the English in recent centuries. They never murdered anyone they didn't absolutely have to."

"Fancy that."

"I don't. At all. I could not care less about Macbeth. And Charlie certainly has no interest in leading an expedition to find artifacts and evidence of Macbeth's kingship." She leaned back against the pillar, sighing tiredly. "But, your friend, Mr. Whitlock suggested to Sir Michael that he should fill the museum with Scottish historical treasures, since, after all, the museum is in Scotland. Sir Michael was so taken with the notion that he wants Father to leave for the Hebrides or the Orkneys or wherever the bloody hell Macbeth lived as soon as absolutely possible."

I was speechless. Is that where Jasper was all day?

"So while finding out that you are a fine upstanding citizen is a disaster of monumental proportions, it pales in comparison to discovering that I am about to be exiled to a remote island in the North Sea, where I will conduct research I care nothing about, on a period I know _nothing_ about. Where the sky will be constantly gray, where it will snow on a mid-summer's day-" A tear spilled from her eye and rolled slowly down her cheek, I brushed it away with a gentle forefinger before handing her a handkerchief from my coat pocket.

"And you will never see Egypt again," I finished for her. "Or Greece. And you will hate every moment of this exile."

_And you will never see me again._

She sniffed, but no more tears came. "Precisely."

From Jasper's point of view, this was a brilliant move. I might have thrown back my head and cackled in glee at the notion of Charlie Swan's being exiled to the Hebrides, except that for Bella this was indeed a disaster. The Swan family lived on the income from a bit of property, a small legacy from the great-grandfather who'd been an Earl, and whatever salary Charlie Swan secured by procuring antiquities for Sir Michael Muir. What little they had was completely in Charlie's control, and his daughters were dependent on him. Where he went, they went, especially Bella. Oh, yes, most especially Bella. Even if she would be loathing to admit it, Charlie Swan knew for years that he was nothing without his brilliant, eldest daughter.

She crumbled the square of linen in her fingers. "What am I to do, Edward?"

Her desperation tore at me, so did the realization that this was the first she'd ever asked anything of me. Everything in me cried out with the need to help her, to hold her, protect her. It clenched a fist around my heart and burned like a fever in my brain. Only one solution immediately presented itself, and I blurted it out before I could stop myself. I didn't hear my own words.

She looked at me strangely. "What are you talking about?"

I didn't know. The words were coming out, but I didn't feel in control of them. The impulse to protect Bella had taken over and was running riot with my tongue. "Marriage," I said, firmer now, more assured. "Have you ever thought of marriage?"

She stared up at me in confusion. "For who?"

"For you, of course."

"I don't have time for marriage! And who would want to marry me?"

"I wanted to marry you."

"_When_?" she asked, her eyes wide with emotion.

Before I could answer, Lady Angela, on the other side of the room, shouted, "That's my necklace! In that case!"


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Twilight_. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **see below..

**OoOoOoOoO**

~*BPOV*~

I stopped breathing.

My heart stopped beating.

He. Wanted. To. Marry. _Me_.

I kept staring at his pleading forest-green eyes, while voices called from all directions- each of us holding the others gaze.

"What is it?"

"What's going on?"

"Do you see that?"

"Modern work," someone commented, "seventeenth-century at the latest. What was it doing in with proper antiquities?"

"I just noticed it missing this morning," Lady Angela replied to someone.

"Well!" Aunt Lauren's voice rose above the hubbub, "I think this has gone too far!"

"Indeed," I heard Jasper Whitlock answer, quite coldly. "It most certainly has."

Edward and I continued to look at each other- speechless. I did not want to pull away. Not _now_. Not after what he had revealed.

Though, reluctantly…I did, turning back to see him continue looking at me as I walked away from him.

"Please let me through," I was rushing toward the center of trouble, I really couldn't say as to why; possibly because it was easier than confronting the naked pain in Edward Masen's eyes.

Finally getting close to the case, I caught a glimpse of Rose, pale with mortification and big-eyed with surprise. Emmett was comfortingly holding her left hand, Dr. Carter her right.

Charlie, however, looked like he was about to faint. "I –"he said, stuttering. "I –"

Lady Angela was brandishing her cane under his nose while holding up a sapphire-and-diamond necklace in her other hand. Sir Michael Muir stood behind her, next to the open glass door of the relic case. From his tableau and the comments I'd already heard, I surmised that the missing necklace had been found on display among the Egyptian artifacts.

"I'd very much like to know how Lady Angela's valuable family jewelry got in among this rubbish!" Sir Michael demanded.

"R-r-r-rubbish!" Charlie sputtered.

I heard echoes of my father's indignation from the historians gathered in the crowd.

"The necklace is a modern trinket," someone called out. "Not at all comparable to the priceless relics in that case!"

"How'd it get there?" Sir Michael demanded.

"Another student prank!" Alice surprised me with her impeccable timing, her eyes soulful- worried. She seemed so much older in that moment, her eyes seeming to urge me into action.

"Perhaps someone left a reminder that one culture's trinkets are another's priceless family jewels?" Jasper Whitlock suggested, wryly.

The already hostile muttering in the crowd grew even louder after this. Alice glared at Jasper.

"Well!" Lady Angela declared, pounding her cane hard on the floor.

_Just what I need_, I thought with growing resentment. _Another crisis_.

I pressed a palm to my aching forehead_. I am so tired_.

I looked over to Alice her eyes urging me on.

_Come on, Swan. My blood, my work, my tears, those countless hours of research, my life, and my…love all poured into this research, this discovery. I will not allow _anyone_ to tarnish it._

I took a deep breath, smiled confidently, straightened my spine, and put myself into the fray.

"Congratulations," I said stepping up to Lady Angela. "It seems your missing necklace has been recovered." I put a calming hand on Charlie's shoulder and turned my smile on Sir Michael. "We can all be thankful that whatever young fool pulled this prank meant no true harm. The necklace has been restored to its true owner, and no damage has been done to the valuable property that you worked so hard to bring to your country," I raked a calm gaze over the gathered academics and dignitaries. "It would also seem that there is something of a security problem with the museum. Nothing serious, but I'm sure my father would like some privacy now to make a necessary investigation of the rest of the building."

"Well," Lady Angela tossed her head, meeting my imperious glance; well aware she and everyone else had just been dismissed, murmurs filled the room as they did so.

Lady Angela leaned towards my ear to speak. "Blood will tell," she murmured low, so that I only heard her. "_Nobless oblige_ comes naturally for an Earl's great-granddaughter."

"Actually, it comes from giving orders to camel drivers," I whispered back. "You have to learn to be more arrogant and stubborn than a camel if you want to get anything done."

The old lady laughed, and her reaction broke the tension that had grown in the room. Lady Angela addressed the crowd, "I say let's all return to the Weber House. The lass is right. I've got my own back. I think that calls for a celebration." She held out her arms and gestured toward the main door. "Come along. Port and sherry and currant cakes are awaiting everyone at my home."

Lady Angela was not to be denied. They went, every last man and woman- faculty, local citizens, and visiting professors, filing out into the night. I longed to follow them to the door, slam it shut and lock it behind them. Instead I waited in quiet dignity at Charlie's side, my hand on his arm until we were alone. My head was splitting, my aching heart was in even worse condition, my soul was torn to shreds, and I was ready to drop from exhaustion and reaction. But I refused, and couldn't, especially since my sisters were running towards me with a worried look in their eyes.

"Bella! Thank God," Rosalie breathed in relief.

"Shh! I need you home, now. Take Charlie and Alice with you," I directed Rose, she nodded, her lip quivering. "Rose," I called again, firmly.

She composed herself. "Yes, Bella. We're going home."

I took a deep breath. I needed to…

"Charlie, why don't you go home?" I suggested. "Rose and Alice need to be taken home."

"Please father, I am feeling faint," Rose added.

"I want to go home," Alice whined, exaggeratedly.

"But, security measures…"

"It's all right. I'll have a look around. There's really nothing much we can do tonight," I replied, trying to ease his worry.

"Masen," Charlie's eyes blazed with hatred. "I'll wager it was Masen who staged this little scene."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, but that did nothing to ease the pounding in my head. "Oh, do leave Edward out of this. Such childishness is not his style. Go home."

"Don't you defend him to me, young woman. Not after what he did to you," he snipped.

I had to bite my tongue, and managed to hold back the hot retort that danced into my mind. I was not going to argue this, I never argued about _this_. I refused to break a decade-long silence just because I was tired and nothing I believed about Edward had turned out to be true.

"I'll see to locking up." I noticed that I was shaking with pent-up rage and other reactions I couldn't name. I turned my back on him and lifted my head with weary pride. "Please go home."

"Let's go, dad. Bella will see to locking up; she will be fine," Alice said confidently.

The echo of their footsteps finally disappeared from the room, leaving me alone to succumb to the consuming blackness that I saw.

oOoOoOoOoOo

~*EPOV*~

"What's that smell?" Bella asked huskily.

_Is she awake, or speaking in her sleep again?_

"It's tea," I replied softly.

"I'd rather have whisky," she retorted, dryly.

"There's whisky in the tea," I said, trying to hide my smirk. She thought I knew her so little.

"Oh," her delicious pout formed an innocent 'o', making me smile.

I stood back and watched, the tin mug cradled in my hands, Bella's eyes still closed. I lifted her head an inch or so off the thin pillow, but she gave up after a moment's effort and settled back with a heavy sigh.

I thought that she'd gone unconscious again, but after a minute or so, she asked, "Where am I?"

"Your father's room, I think."

"My father's – "

"Never mind. Rest."

"I'm dreaming that you're here, aren't I?" she near whimpered.

"Yes," I replied with a smile. She very much sounded that she was still asleep.

"Where am I really?"

I'd found this small space tucked off a large workroom where I'd searched the museum the night before. It contained a daybed, a camp stove, some supplies, a teakettle, and a few dishes. I surmised it was Charlie Swan's home away from home. Though hardly a luxurious, it had been the logical place to bring Bella when she fucking collapsed.

"You fainted," I told her as her eyes slowly opened.

She finally opened her eyes and stared up at the dark ceiling. I'd lit a small lamp as well as the stove. The room was warm, but there was very little light beyond the circle cast by the lamp.

"I do not faint," she said.

I sat down beside her on the narrow bed and helped her sit up. The blanket I'd covered her with fell around her waist. I'd unfasten several buttons of her high-necked bodice to make her more comfortable. I mean, Jesus, how do women do it with those contraptions is beyond me. So now I am trying not to notice the generous amount of cleavage peeking above the lace edging of her white cotton chemise.

_Fuck._

I held out the cup to her, making an effort to talk. "I made you some tea."

"I've been asleep," she said. It wasn't a question. She was trying to convince me she didn't faint. I tried to hold back my smile as I held out the tea cup. She was probably still disoriented. Her fingers brushed mine when she took the cup, and I felt the flutter all the way down to my groin.

Bella's hand was cold, but the touch sent warmth through me. "Soundly asleep, if you've been bustling about while I…rested." She downed a long gulp of the warm liquid. After a brief coughing fit, she handed the cup back and said, "There is indeed whiskey in this tea."

Even with all our clothing and the blanket between us, I was fully aware of the feel of her body pressed to mine. I glanced inside the empty cup, "Good stuff, too," I said, trying desperately not to stare at her breasts. "At least your father has taste in that."

"It was a gift from Sir Michael. I believe he owns a distillery."

"Busy man," I muttered.

"That makes me dizzy," she said, staring at the empty tea cup. She still sounded tired and her voice was husky and decadent.

"Then don't drink anymore," I laughed.

"All right. You're sitting very close, Edward," she blushed, furiously. I wished and prayed it was my proximity rather than the whisky.

"It's a small bed."

It was a small room, and yet I knew that not having her close would be worse. As usual, she was doing a good job of confusing me, but it wasn't just her nearness that made me light-headed. It was her smell, the warmth of her skin as I unbuttoned a several buttons from her bodice, the way she said my name while she slept.

_Fuck!_ She was driving me crazy.

"Oh, I know where I am," she said, her voice raspy. "We shouldn't be in here." But she made no move to flee the room's coziness.

Despite the impropriety of her consternation at finding herself alone with me, she seemed comfortable. I couldn't bring myself to ask her if she wanted me to move, any more than she seemed she wanted to move herself. What I wanted to do was draw myself down beside her and peel the rest of that damn dress off. I settled by placing my hand on her hair and started taking her hairpins out. She rolled her eyes as she closed them and slightly parted her rosebud lips.

"I have no idea how I got here," she told me with her eyes closed. "None at all." She touched her hand reverently to her forehead, but touched my fingers instead. It felt fucking amazing. "I have some vague memory of forming a plan to run off and become a governess – and then everything went black."

Okay. She was probably still asleep.

"A governess?"

"It seemed logical at the time. It's not as if I haven't considered running away before. This time I thought I'd run off to the moors and become a governess and the master would fall in love with me, but then it would turn out that I was heiress to a great fortune and I could go off and do anything I bloody well wanted without having to depend on any man at all. The master would be heartbroken, of course."

"Of course," I chuckled softly. Yes. She was still half awake or drunk. Once I was finished with all her hair pins, she sighed and smiled slightly. Good god she was beautiful in the glow this lamp provided. Her hair was a delicious dark chocolate with this light, her skin gleamed, and her flush indicated the whiskey was working to warm her.

Our hands were still locked.

"Have you been reading Jane Eyre by any chance, Isabella?"

"Yes. Before I go to bed every night. Not that I've had a chance to go to bed recently."

"Fiction is not like real life, Bella."

"I know. Most of it is far less exciting then the sort of life we're used to."

"Most people prefer a quiet life," I said.

"I can't think why," she mused.

"Nor I."

I sat very still, gazing off into the small room's shadows as to give her some privacy for my next set of questions. I needed some fucking answers.

"Is that why you were crying? Because you have to give up your exciting life?"

"Was I crying?" She asked, incredulous.

"You don't want to remember." It wasn't a question.

I knew her too well for someone who really didn't know her at all. So close, especially now, as we shared the width of the small bed, and yet so far from each other. I could reach out and touch her face, stroke my fingertips along her jaw, feel the texture of her silky skin – but I wouldn't. What good would it do me to touch her body when her spirit and heart were unknown territory to me? Once we both had thought flesh was enough. It had been a hard lesson for both of us, learning what a mistake that was.

"You were crying. I saw you," I whispered, slowly turning my head to look at her. "You were crying because of me."

I did not want to look Bella in the eye as I said this, but she deserved that much from me. She deserved a great deal _more_ from me, after all I'd done to ruin her life. I'd stood deep in the shadows after everyone else had gone, and it had cracked my heart open when Bella, my strong, capable, resilient Isabella, sank to her knees in a pool of pastel silk and pressed her face into her hands.

I hadn't stayed behind to spy on her but to protect her, fearing the Hoplites would break in to cause even more mischief after leaving the necklace as a warning. Then Charlie threw what I had done to her in her face, and left her to sob out her shame alone. How was I to protect her from the crime I'd committed against her? She'd fainted dead away and I'd rushed to help, and now here we were, and it was time for me to face up to everything. Trying to save her from the Hoplites was _not_ enough.

"An apology, I think, dearest Isabella, is in order."

We stared at each others eyes for what felt an eternity. A million emotions past through her face and eyes. I knew my face certainly looked tense with pain. She reached out to brush my hair off my forehead. "Apologize? Surely I'm the one who needs to apologize for having misjudged you for so many years," she whispered.

She kept stroking her fingers across my brow- fucking distracting me to no avail. I grasped her wrist and pushed it away, then stood to face her. "Don't pretend you don't know what I mean. It's time we stopped avoiding the issue, Bella."

Bella crossed her arms. "Oh. That."

"Yes. _That_."

"There is nothing to discuss," she said with finality.

"It wasn't '_nothing,' _Bella. I saw tonight how your father uses it against you."

"That's my fault I shouldn't have told him. One should keep some things to oneself." She gave me a warning look. "Don't you agree?"

"Not anymore."

"It was a decade ago, Edward. I doubt you even remember the occurrence that entirely well. You've had so many others since…I am sure," she added bitterly.

I couldn't fucking help it, it was bait. "Jealous, Bella?" I smiled.

"Don't flatter yourself."

My moment of teasing faced instantly. "I have nothing to be flattered about. I have wronged you."

"Frequently, but not _that_ night."

What the hell? What does that mean? "Why won't you let me take responsibility for having destroyed your life?" I spat.

She giggled. "If you had, I would. But you didn't."

"You were an innocent virgin. I despoiled – "

"Must you be so melodramatic about it?" She yawned, patting her mouth with her open palm.

"You're exhausted to the point of sleepwalking. You think you're too tired to argue, but we have to get this out in the open."

"I am perfectly wide awake," though the merest mention of sleep made her want to close her eyes. I watched as she fought the urge, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, rising unsteadily to her feet. I was still far taller, but it was a size difference we were both used to.

Her lips lifted briefly in an ironic smile, probably recognizing that this was our usual confrontation position. I, for one, took some comfort from the familiarity. She ran her gaze over me, from the tips of my highly polished shoes up my legs, my chest, shoulders, and then her eyes landed on my face.

_Damn it. How can she get me hard just by looking?_

She furrowed her eyebrows. "You're being solemn. And serious is disconcerting, Edward. Please stop."

I held out a hand, stopping just short of touching her cheek, but close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from my palm. "I am so sorry, Bella."

She took a deep breath. I took one, too. I drew in her scent with it, a potently feminine mixture of whisky and rich cream. I wanted to step closer, to breathe in my fill of her.

I saw that she was so tense and faintly trembling, and hated seeing her that way. I wanted to brush her lips across the downturned line of her rose-colored mouth, and coax a smile from her. But that would distract the fuck out of both of us and I had more to say.

"I ruined your life, Bella. How can I – "  
"Oh, for God's sake!" she yelled, slapping my hand away. I backed up a step as she came angrily at me. "It was one night. _One_. Ruined? Am I the only one who – "

"I took your innocence," I spat, abruptly cutting her off.

"I _gave_ you my innocence," she sneered, stabbing a sharp forefinger into my chest. "It cost me, but you _took_ nothing. How can you be so bloody self-important? It was not robbery, you bloody fool. It was a gift! I never thought I'd see you again."

I was in shock. "You were a child. I seduced you."

She gave an emphatic nod. "I'll grant those points," she smiled.

"I pursued you like the selfish, lascivious animal I am. I took something I had no right to take from you. I shattered your innocence ruined you for any decent- "

"We had sex, you mean," she corrected, placing her hands on her hips. "Stop trying to sugarcoat the act. Speak like a man or get out of my sight."

"I truly did not realize you were a virgin. I'd seen you dancing and – " I gave a wild shake of my head. "That was long before I knew the customs of the country, before I understood that what Saida taught you is an art form practiced by the most respectable of women. I saw how you ran the camp, how you dealt as a mature woman taking care of everyone. I assumed, because I wanted to, that you were a woman who knew what she was doing and what she wanted."

"I did know what I wanted. No," she conceded after a moment. "I knew I wanted _something_, and I knew that what I wanted was bought with a high price. What _we_ did was inappropriate, it should not have happened. But I knew that at the time."

There was a pause then. We both just looked at each other. She, so beautiful, her pink flush, her dewy lips. Her skin looked like delicious roses and cream, her hair- wild, loose, and magnificent in the lamp light. I couldn't get enough of the sight of her.

"When?" She asked.

"When, what?"

"When did you want to marry me?"

_Oh, shit._

"After…after you slept in my arms, I laid awake for what seemed to be hours. Did you know you talk in your sleep? I listened and stared at your lips, eyes, skin - I was shocked that you were a virgin and your father had ranted about your family's genealogy across camp. I had to do right by you. I made sure you were warm enough and went straight to your father's tent. I never spoke a word of what happened between us in my tent. All I asked for was your hand in marriage. All I got was shown the door or in this case, the nearest sand dune. Later, years later, he came to me in Cairo, half drunk and carrying a gun, threatening and cursing me for having ruined his little girl. You don't know about that, do you, Bella? How did he explain the black eye and bruised jaw I gave him? Fell off a camel, maybe?"

She gasped and a million emotions and colors passed through her beautiful, big eyes.

She wrapped her hands around the lapels of my jacket and pulled me to her so that our faces were inches apart. My heart was racing and I was having trouble breathing. She was cool and collected.

When she spoke, distinctly pronouncing each word, she looked at me unflinchingly in the eye. "Edward, I need you to know that it was _my _choice. That what I did, I did of my own free will. _I_ wanted you. _I_ had you. I did not tell Charlie you raped me. It did not ruin my life. Changed it, yes. And _I_ have lived with the consequences. I have not complained; I accept my responsibility. While I have many regrets for what happened afterward, telling Charlie for one; I have never, _ever_, regretted coming into your tent, unfastening my clothes, lying down on your bed, and –"

"Stop!" I yelled, my body unable to handle anymore. I pushed her back and swung away from her as quickly as I could. There was just so much I could fucking take. I am a man, after all.

Bella stumbled and landed on the bed. My breath came in ragged gasps as I stood with my back to her, my hands balled into tight fists. "I remember what happened. I remember it every day of life."

"Good Lord," she said, genuinely amazed. "Why?"

I turned around and her head snapped up, certainly surprised as to how crazy I must look. "Because I have never stopped wanting to do it again."

I moved forward with the speed of a desert jackal pressing her down beneath me on the narrow bed. I had held tight rein on my response to the images conjured by each of her blunt words, but I was not made of stone.

Need set my imagination on fire, lashed hotly down my spine and into my groin. I'd locked away my lust for this woman for years, only to have her step up to its cage and mercilessly provoke the wild thing inside me…and when the caged animal finally broke free, there was nowhere either of us could hide.

I descended on her with the fierceness of a desert sandstorm, tasting her sudden tension. Was it panic?

But then I felt it…her curves, slowly molding to my body, and my weight bore down, crushing her against the thin mattress.

I caressed her, her breasts, her throat, without subtlety or gentleness, branding heat into her flesh. I combed my fingers through her hair, drawing her head closer to mine. Somewhere in the distance I heard the faint metallic ping of the remaining hairpins scattering to the concrete floor, allowing her heavy tendrils to fall in wild disarray around her face.

I surrounded her, covered her, heavy and unyielding, blocking out the light- my kiss demanding and swallowing her taste. Honey, and fire, and whiskey- drowning me completely. I knew the caged animal was taking over, and all I could do was close my eyes and ride out the storm.

I wanted to taste her skin, every inch of it. I buried my face against her throat and breathed the sweet scent that lay there, savoring her very essence. A soft cloud of chocolate caressed my cheek as my lips brushed across her collarbone, and down across the very top of the round swelling of her breasts.

My hand eagerly cupped her breast, my thumb painfully seeking the bud of her nipple beneath the bodice, chemise, and corset. It was a long time since I'd touched and tasted a woman, and none had drawn my desire like the one I held now.

I dreamed of her. Dreamed of her dancing, dreamed of her beneath me. Imagined her mouth pleasuring me and her hands caressing.

She was _mine_. There was no escape. No returning back.

Bella had worked her hands from beneath her, and her small fists pummeled at my shoulders, only to increase the animal's arousal further. I am quite sure it snarled- its pleasure piqued by her struggles. Though I knew there was no escaping this bed until it had its fill of her.

"Edward," she gasped. "Stop."

She bucked beneath me, the desperate movement only serving to heighten my desire. Her nails dug into the back of my neck…the animal laughed. "Draw blood if you want. Do anything you want…I intend to."

I remembered the skilled sway of her hips, the jingling of the coins and bells decorating the belt worn low over the delicious curve of her hips, drawing attention to the secret, hidden place between her legs. Heaven would be her moving like that beneath me, with me buried _deep_ inside.

Heaven would be mine,_ tonight_.

My balls ached, and I was as hard as granite. My conscience had jumped ship- and ethics and morals had dived in head first right behind. I'd never been happier than to have them gone. Who needed them when I could have Bella? Have her, take her, _and use_ her any way I wanted. Sweet, God, I still wanted to drive into her, to bury myself deep inside her body!

I kissed her again, reveling in the softness of her lips. My tongue delved into sweet heat while my hands continued to explore, hunting for treasure. She writhed and arched, her body melding to my own. Needy, I slipped my leg between hers, parting her thighs, pressing myself closer to where I longed to be- letting her feel my excitement.

Bella moaned against my mouth, the tip of her tongue snuck out and touched my own, eliciting a sudden darting dance between the two before abruptly throwing her head back to turn away, denying even this small declaration of desire.

_Damn it all! When will she learn?_

"Dance for me," I rasped, I begged, my lips against her ear, kissing the tender spot just below it.

~*BPOV*~

I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The man was driving me mad. Fear coiled inside me. Fear and heat. And fear of the heat. Fear of his strength; fear of the darkness in him, which threatened to overwhelm us both. Part of me wanted to beg for my freedom, for the whirlwind to stop. How do you beg a storm? How do you put passion back in a bottle? We'd done it once before, but –

"Edward – " I panted, my chest heaving.

His kisses drifted down my throat, melting skin in their wake. "No. Don't stop this."

"I…hurt," I cried, the ache always there, deep inside- but now it throbbed, grew, spread…I was weak, so weak. I was so lost, and lonely, and in need of the searing touch I'd always longed for. Sixteen or twenty-six, there was only one man…Edward.

_I want..._

But not like this. Not overpowered, aching, controlled and helpless. _Never_. I needed to be his equal in this.

"Edward look at me," I hissed, pulling his hair. "Get off of me. Am I supposed to be flattered? You'd never forgive yourself if you took me this way."

"Stop trying to save me from me," he moaned, digging his face into my chest.

"Someone has to save us both, you damn fool. Now get off me."

This time, he obeyed. "Damn it! I want you, Bella," he snarled, moving to sit on the end of the bed, his head buried in his hands, fingers pulling roughly at his tousled hair.

My skin still sang with our shared body heat, but cold emptiness would take that warmth soon enough. I moved slowly, rising to my feet, all too aware of the throbbing tenderness of my throat, and chest, and of the swelling tenderness of my lips. The taste of his frantic kisses lingered, and his scent clung to me. Almond, sand, and myrrh and…Edward. I trembled with reaction, with desire.

_I'm not a child anymore. I am woman._

Soon I would go into exile on a cold island in the North Sea. This time, I really would never see him again. I couldn't live on a girl's memory of one night of awkward love-making forever. The choice was mine, and my choice was to take a woman's memories of loving Edward Masen to sustain me.

I licked my lips. "Help me," I said, rising from the bed turning my back to him.

Edward slowly lifted his head. He was magnificent in the lamplight, his skin glimmered, his disheveled hair backlit and shining, framing his beautiful face, his eyes- enormous.

"Your expression is unreadable, Bella. Help you?" He asked, confused.

I reached for the buttons of my half undone bodice. "Help me," I sternly repeated.

He bolted to his feet as I _un_fastened a button. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, incredulously.

"What does it look like I am doing? Getting undressed, of course."

"_What? W-w-why?" _he stammered.

My bodice was mostly undone by now, revealing the lacy white embroidered chemise beneath. My heart pounded hard against my chest at the look on his face as he took in my breasts before him. He appeared to be hyperventilating, his face in pain- struggling.

"I thought you wanted to have sex," I said raising an eyebrow, challenging him.

"Of course! But – "

"But, what?" I asked, amused, as my fingers moved to the fastening of my heavy skirt. "You _can_ help me to take my clothes off. They're not mine, you see," I explained reasonably, hoping he didn't notice that my hands were shaking. "This is Rose's dress. One of her best. She'll kill me if anything happens to it."

"I see," he said, though he didn't sound that he in fact did.

"It's quite an operation for a woman to become naked," I said conversationally. I noticed a tremor in my voice, and my gaze was anywhere but on him now, but I went on with dogged practicality. "There's the skirt, the bodice, a half dozen petticoats and this stilly bustle contraption, then the corset and the chemise and the drawers, stockings and garters and shoes, as well. You could dress an Egyptian village with all the layers I've got on." I laughed nervously, holding out my hands to him. "Come here, Edward, and make yourself useful."

He put his hands behind his back, the sight of him making me sweat. "Bella, you're trying to seduce me." His voice was calm, unwavering.

"Welcome back," I smiled. "You've gotten to seduce me."

"I remember," his eyes showed me that he had gotten a better handle on the storm brewing within him.

"I think it's about time I had a turn, don't you?" I didn't want him to lead. Not this time.

"Fair's fair," he agreed, his voice cracking on the words.

I slipped out of my bodice, folded it neatly, and laid it across the chair. "The corset's laced up the back." I turned around, flipping my hair over the front of my shoulder. I swallowed down my nervousness and tried to be nonchalant and unexpected. I am certain my spine and neck were revealed.

I held my breath. It was far too late for me to reach for the knob and walk away from this man, who might or might not touch me at any moment. I wanted to stomp my foot and demand that he succumb to my charms, whatever those charms might be, but I waited. I'd made my choice- now it was up to him to make his.

"_Fuck._ That gesture nearly drove me to my knees, Isabella."

Yes! Those hoarse words were whispered directly into my ear. I felt his presence now, and leaned back against the broad width of his chest. He let out a sigh and ran his hands slowly down the length of my bare arms, until his fingers twined with mine.

"Sweet, sweet, Bella," he cooed.

"There is nothing sweet about me, Edward. You know that for a fact."

"You've never kissed you." He wrapped his arms around my waist, cradling me close, "you're blushing. I can feel it."

I felt the smile in his voice as well.

"Your skin feels amazing," he groaned, nuzzling his nose against the back of my neck, brushing his parted lips against the sensitive skin there.

A spot on my throat stung where he had bitten me earlier, but there was a hint of pleasure overlaying the small pain. The mark made me feel claimed- _wanted_. I wondered if he'd noticed doing it. He had been so wild then and seemed so gentle now as he moved, with more skill than I like, to help me off with my skirt and unlace my hated corset.

His hands lingered and explored as he slowly removed each piece. When I was down to nothing more than my chemise and drawers, I turned slowly in the circle of his arms, and pressed myself close to rough wool, smooth linen, and hard muscle- putting my arms around him, and resting my cheek above his heart.

"I need these clothes off of you. I _want_ – _want_ to feel your skin against mine. So much," I pleaded, licking my lower lip.

"Oh, God," he whispered back, voice rough with desire. I pulled his jacket off.

"You'll go away," I said at last. I raised my head to look into his hooded eyes. "But that's all right. You're here now," I continued, convincing myself.

"I'm here now."

"So am I. Kiss me," I demanded, and he did- slowly and gently, for a long, long time, holding me as though I were a fragile piece of priceless alabaster.

I reveled in this courteous building of desire. It was heaven to kiss him. I needed to burn every memory of it in my brain, every sensation, every breath.

He tasted so very good- delicious, and sweet..._forbidden_. Heat coursed slowly throughout my body, intensifying languidly at each spot where our bodies met and melded together.

Time melted, I melted, and for a heady moment it seemed he and I became _one_.

"I want you so much Bella…always...wanted..._you_...cannot…stop…will _never_ stop…wanting _you_," he murmured between kisses.

When I came back to myself, I wickedly smiled, teasing him as I began to dance, moving ever so slowly against him. My knees flexed; my hips shifted in slow, sensual circles against his hardness.

His head came slowly up, his hands moving to my waist, and a low, needy moan escaped his lips. "Good God, woman."

I started kissing his delicious lips. "You…wanted…me…to dance…for...you," I breathed, leaning up again to lick his swollen lips.

His breathing was hard and sharp. "You're killing me."

I continued dancing, feeling his dick get harder for me. _I_ did this to him. The thought alone made me feel wanton and free.

"You like it, Edward," I breathed harshly. I could feel very well how much he liked what I was doing.

"Don't stop. _Ever_," he groaned, defeated, and it was the sexiest sound I had ever heard.

"I won't. Let's take this off, baby." I undid his already loosened tie.

"Hurry, Bella. _Please_."

I couldn't get enough of him, so one by one, I undid his shirt buttons, pausing to delicately kiss the widening line of flesh as it was revealed. I was going to savor and prolong this memory as long as possible. When his shirt was finally off, I traced a fingertip slowly down the 'V' of his chest hair, following the arrow down to his hard stomach.

He reached out for my breasts, and rolled my nipples slowly- but hard. I moaned loudly, desire shooting right down my center. "Oh, God. Edward. Do that again. Please," I begged, and he did, causing me to mewl at the sensation.

"Bella, your sounds are driving me insane," he growled.

My breasts felt tender and heavy, and my stomach clenched, but there was no nervousness or hesitation in my body's responses. My hands were sure and steady as I continued to explore his body. Caution and pride were gone. Everything was burned out of me but pure desire. Passion was like gold: time wore down and tarnished everything else, but no matter how you shaped it, or whether you hid it away for centuries out of sight- gold remained gold.

Wanting him was a state of _being_.

His trousers were undone and I reached for his awaiting erection. "Help me, Edward," I touched his dick gently, running my fingers along its soft length. It was smooth, hot, and incredibly hard. "Like this?" I asked as I circled the end with my fingers nails causing him to gasp.

"Fuck!" He grabbed my fingers, showing me how to feel him, grasp him, and move his moist skin up and down his hardened length.

He felt so different, yet familiar, and I couldn't help but feel aroused.

I began to devour his lips while our fingers where entwined while touching his hard shaft. "Do you feel that, Bella? This is what you do to me," he said, thrusting himself hard within my palm, showing me. "I want to be inside you. Can you feel it? Tell me you want this, too. That you want me deep inside you, sweetheart."

"I want you deep inside…where I ache for you, Edward. Where I've _always_ ached for you," I nearly cried, grinding myself onto him.

"Oh, Bella," he cried, trapping my lips with his mouth, roughly thrusting his tongue in before pulling away to undress me completely. "So beautiful," he whispered, tracing my collarbone with his finger, to my sternum, navel, and down to my nether lips. "So wet. For me. _Only_ me. No one else," he said reverently while circling my clit, while his eyes drank in the sight of my body before him.

"Ahhh…Mmmm…oh..." The heat was unbearable, my knees were giving out. I held on to his shoulders. "Oh…Edward…that feels...Ungh…_so_ good. _Please_…don't stop." He slid the tip of his finger down to my entrance, and teasingly circled it there before entering, causing me to nearly come undone right then.

"I won't stop, baby. Oh my God, you feel so good. So tight and wet," he whispered, his tongue trailing up the stem of my neck, adding another finger, before curling them both inside me, while his thumb rubbed torturously slow over my swollen clit. "I want you to come undone on my fingers, Bella. Can you do that? For me?" he asked sweetly, picking up the pace with his finger on my clit, his mouth anchored on mine, and I returned his kisses with increased vehemence in an effort to assuage the pressure building and filling me.

My hands and arms scrambled to find a hold on him that could not be broken. A tremble shook me that could only be relieved through movement. My hips rocked silkily, pressing into his masterful caresses.

"_Oh_…ahhh…_please_..." I moaned, my body tensing as I screamed, releasing all over his fingers, just like he asked.

I was no longer touching the ground, and I didn't know when Edward had kicked off the remainder of his trousers and clothes…but he had.

We had spent ten long years trying to break the bond forged between us in that tent, only to discover it had been forged with unbreakable chains.

No longer able to bear up our weight, he sank back down onto the narrow bed, dragging me down with him, guiding me to straddle his thighs. Still devouring my mouth, his fingers now ran through my hair, his hands wandered over my bare back, caressingly- as our tongues tangled in a song older than words.

"I need you. I need to be inside you," his voice was raw- desperate. _Just like I felt. _

His mouth moved to cover the tip of my breasts, and I leaned into him, giving him every bit of me. I slid my hand between us, closing it around the thick base of his penis, and began pumping it with fervor.

"Your taste is driving me wild," he gasped, pulling away from my breasts.

I continued to straddle him as he lay flat on his back, my knees on either side of him- gripping him. We moaned with need as my wet sex pressed hotly against his stomach, my resolve faltering by the second as I gyrated above him, needing the friction.

I leaned forward, his head strained upward to suckle my breasts, while my fingers took there long, sweet time trailing fire across his throat, chest, than stomach.

I kissed him then, my tongue unbidden and free, just as I felt. He purred low in his throat, and it soon turned into a demanding growl. I shifted, giving access to his fingers so they could stroke between my thighs.

I forgot everything but the delicious waves of sensation overwhelming me. I'd never known pleasure like this, yet my body yearned for deeper, more intense passion. I lifted my hips with the building hunger; my legs falling open, allowing his gentle onslaught. "Please," I said.

"Yes," he replied, and before I could think I was on my back, Edward looming over me, his rigid shaft pressing at my entrance. With eyes locked, and lips parted, he entered me, thrusting deeply, smoothly…_completely_.

We didn't move, our bodies absorbing the feeling of wholeness. I moaned, lifting my hips slightly, giving him permission to continue. He gave the most sensual grunt, as he breathed heavily through clenched teeth, eyes heady with desire. "You feel amazing. God help me. Are you okay?"

I felt my heart pounding in my chest to a familiar rhythm, and I slowly started to dance to it. My hips circled, searching, begging for release. "Edward, I...want…you. I _need_ you."

"_Fuck! Yes!"_ he screamed, as he started thrusting to my rhythm.

"_Oh…yes, like that…deep, so deep...Edward, please!"_

Thunder rolled through me and lightning consumed me, but I was part of the storm this time, equal to him in fervor. My need was terrifying, exhilarating, devastating- _wonderful_. As Edward's weight pressed me down I strained upward, meeting each of his thrusts with my own as our bodies melded perfectly together, skin gliding against skin in sweet decadent friction.

My legs wove around his waist and clung there, muscles straining, my heels dug deep into his lower back, urging him into me.

The universe came down to the two of us becoming one, and the universe was a living beautiful swirling firestorm, and I was a spark thrown up into the wind. The searing storm caught me up, twisting me around, taking me higher into the burning night, yet all I wanted was more and more and more and –

"_Edward_!" I cried, the spark that was my burst blossoming and shattering- falling into a long-fading, glorious descent into the dark as my body quivered with intensity, my muscles clenched around him, milking his shaft till it tensed within me, causing my name to escape his lips reverently in soft pants, as he spilled into me, my body accepting of his gift.

**oOoOoOo**

**Author's Note: **Scotland's possible historical theories are based on research documented on Cameron Taylor's and Allistair Murray's _On the Trail of the Real MacBeth; King of Alba.____Fashion in Costume 1200-2000_ by Joan Nunn was used as a clothing historical reference. _Poems from The Desert_ by Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum inspired the imagery in this chapter.

Thank you very much dear readers for your patience and sticking with me. I received many private messages from many of you asking for your fix. I hope you were..um, satisfied with what you just read. Few shot outs: Lilith617, my beta wifey, you deserve an award for the stunt you just pulled. Thank you is not enough to express my gratitude with the excellent work you do for TR. AngelaSampedro99 and LadyMiss, I pray that you are satisfied with the Charlie-bit (black eye and dislocated jaw) in this chapter; thank you for inspiring it. Nurse JLO, I love you and I thank you for helping me with..uh, research. Last, but certainly not least, all of you who take the time to read and review.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Twilight_. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **This chapter is dedicated to my beautiful beta-wifey, Lilith617. Thank you for holding my hand and being my numero uno cheerleader throughout this writing process. TR would not have been concluded without you.

*~EPOV~*

"_Bella?"_ I groaned out, unable to keep quiet any longer. I touched her cheek and found it wet, kissed it, and tasted the salted liquid.

Isabella lay sleeping next to me, a pagan goddess as yet unaware of her singular powers. Her face held that look of serene triumph only the recent and thorough adoration of a lover, indeed a worshiper, could inspire.

_My heart feels swollen._

I stretched out beside her, wedged between the cold wall and her warm naked skin. I was propped up on one elbow as I admired her- feeling a helpless wrenching sensation, brutal and quick, in the deepest and most private region of my soul. Her breasts rose and fell with her soft breathing, the pretty pink nipples still taut.

Bella stirred and made a soft sound, something between a whimper and a very intimate sigh. The lamplight played over her breasts, and my groin tightened almost painfully as I recalled the delight in suckling her, feeling her hands moving, frantic in my hair, hearing the pleas I suspected no torment on earth could have caused her to utter in any other circumstances; _only I could that_.

_Fuck!_ The way this woman's body begged for my cock was driving me to wake her up and beg for her to make me scream her name.

I couldn't stop replaying everything that happened and was said between us just a few short hours ago.

_She danced for me. _

_She danced with _me_._

_She danced against my hard dick. _

_She danced while I buried my hard dick deeply inside her._

My mind was going crazy. Our imminent separation closing nearer, clawing painfully in my throat- I think I forgot to breathe.

_Too late for us_, I said to myself, remembering why I was in Scotland. I was here to betray her, steal the treasure, coerce her in any way possible- to give up the findings in order to save her life, _not_ to make love to her, and a night of love making had only made her even more precious to me, making the betrayal all the more necessary. She was going to hate me, and I could never hope to have this closeness with her again.

"Have I been asleep long?" she asked huskily. I bent down and nibbled at the peak of one breast and then the other.

"Edward?" she breathed in.

I couldn't answer her. I couldn't speak. I had to savor this. God knows this is the last time I can have her in my arms. I traced the fine aristocratic line of her perfect nose with the lightest possible pass of my fingertip, to her swollen pout, collarbone, held her breast, and then bent to continue nibbling her nipples.

She moaned and her heavy lashes fluttered and sighed out my name. It was not a reprimand, but an invitation, soft and sweet and too tempting for a mere mortal to foreswear.

I mounted Bella, then gently brushed her lightly smoothing, wild, silken hair back from her forehead before uttering words I had burning in my throat while she lay talking in her sleep.

"I need you," I admitted, _help me please_, with a difficulty that surprised me. I couldn't leash my desperate need. This cannot be over. I don't want it to be over. Please don't let it be over.

_I want._

She opened her wondrous golden brown eyes, made a crooning sound that was my undoing, and raised her hips to welcome me.

I surged inside her, with a low, grateful cry, and she received me eagerly, moving with me, her body as supple and graceful as a willow branch in a spring breeze. She murmured incoherently as I rode her, my pace slow and measured at first, then faster, deeper, more demanding. Bella met me boldly in the midst of the fire, straining and sobbing in release beneath me.

Bella's laughter was a beautiful sound.

"Why are you amused?" I laughed.

She cleared her throat, blushing furiously. "If you must know, I was struck by the irony of thanking God for a second chance at sin with you. I doubt Reverend Newton would be amused."

"I doubt Reverend Newton has ever been amused at anything in his life. What's next, the petticoat or the bustle?"  
"Bustle," she giggled.

We didn't say anything else while I acted as lady's maid for her. After she was fully dressed, she busied herself with straightening the bed and cleaning up the dishes I'd used for tea. By the time the evidence of our presence was erased but for whatever hairpins she hadn't been able to find, I was done dressing. When she could have put out the lamp and gone to the door, I put my hands on her waist and turned her to face me.

"Thank you for this, Bella." I uttered.

She answered by kissing, giving me a quick, chaste kiss on the lips and whimpering a "let's go home."

Bella took me by the elbow and directed me to the door. I blew out the lamp, and followed after her. After we crossed through the workroom, she led me down the hallway to the rear entrance of the museum. "After you," she said, opening the door and gesturing me through.

I laughed.

"You don't trust me, do you?" I asked, amused. "Even after DeClerqc cleared my name, even after we – "

"Do I look like a fool to you?"

"That's my Bella. You haven't any _tangible_ proof you can trust me." And god-damn it, I couldn't even promise to provide any proof, either. Not when I am about to betray her.

"Let's go," I said and preceded her from the building.

"I'll walk you home."

"You'll do no such thing," she scoffed.

What was she afraid of? That her father would see us? That thought infuriated me. Was the man's hold on her ever going to break? Or was she afraid of her reputation? Or afraid that such civilized behavior as walking across the campus would bring us closer together? Most women wouldn't fear that – but most women didn't have a hostile relationship with their lovers.

_Lover_ – I liked that word.

I also better not let myself get used to it.

There were things out there in the night that Bella should fear, men who threatened her safety and her life. For a moment I considered confiding in her about the Hoplites, but I had sworn an oath not to reveal their existence. Besides, I wouldn't expect a sensible woman like Bella to believe the wild truth of the matter.

I did say as we reached the rose garden behind the museum, "I don't think you should be out alone."

I wasn't surprised when she laughed softly. "It's a mild summer night on a university campus in Muirford, Scotland. Unless you're expecting a pack of jackals to attack or a camel stampede that I'm unaware of, I think I'm perfectly safe walking home alone."

_Oh, baby, if you only knew!_ "What about the vandals?"

"A tribe of barbarians that settled in Europe around 400 A.D., I believe," she snickered.

"Quit the history lesson. You know what I mean, Bella."

"I'm sure the prankster is safe in bed after triumphantly leaving Lady Angela's necklace in the relic case."

"You can't be sure."

Her brow furrowed and walked away from me with a firm, swift tread before I could ask her what she was thinking or figure out the expression.

I tried to stop her. "You could at least say good night," I called after her. "You'll be at the ball tomorrow?" She turned around and walked slowly backwards with a beautiful smile and deliciously-just-fucked hair framing her beautiful face.

"Yes," she nodded. "Good night." She said, before turning to head home.

I stayed to watch her back, and saw two figures that had been lurking across the commons.

_Son of a bitch!_ They appeared out of the shadow of a building and began stalking Bella, flanking her from two different angles.

_A little peaceful walk across the commons, my ass!_

I moved swiftly to come between Bella and the men following her. _No danger? Except the danger to your heart of making love to me, and we're both in danger there, aren't we?_

The threat from the Hoplites was a blessing, in a way. It freed me from having to think about anything but the peril of the moment. No time now to think about things done and said- lies and truths about each other that we'd once believed and still believed. So much that could and should have been – which could never be now because of the damned fanatics who guarded Alexander's tomb and the promises I'd had to make to protect her from them.

_If you only knew, Bella. God, if you only knew…_

Which she wasn't going to…_ever_.

Chances were that the Hoplites were armed. I was not carrying a gun mainly because they were messy and loud, and the wounds they made were to easily fatal. I didn't want anyone to die if I could help it. But the men shadowing Bella were very likely the hot headed ones Jasper had warned me about.

Knives were not noisy or messy. I slipped the Bowie knife I always carried from the hidden pocket in my jacket, veered to the left, and came up behind the first of the two men.

No one was going to touch Bella.

"What did you think you were doing?" Jasper whispered angrily, leaning close to me so that no one around the punchbowl overheard.

I kept my gaze on the door of the manor house's great hall. The huge room was awash in flower garlands and huge drapes and bows of plaid ribbon bunting. A small orchestra brought in from London played softly in one corner, while bagpipers and harpists awaited their turn at the other end of the hall.

Buffet tables were set up once again below the stained-glass windows, and chandeliers and great brackets of candles set the room aglow. The huge room was packed to overflowing. I hadn't seen so many male knees since – well, I'd never seen so many men's knees before.

Jasper, Emmett, I, and a few others wore the standard black-and-white formal wear, and we stood out like sore thumbs. This was, after all, a Highland Ball. Any man who could lay claim to a tartan was dressed in full Scottish highland regalia, including kilt and sporran. The Scottish ladies wore their family plaids as well with their ball gowns, in scarves and shawls and ribbon decorations. It was all very different from anything I was used to. Very interesting. Almost enough to distract me from the angry Greek at my side, but not enough to divert my attention away from watching the wide doorway.

"What were you thinking?" Jasper insisted, tugging hard on my arm.

I gently extracted my sleeve from the man's nervous grasp. "I thought I was protecting a lady."

"Your actions have caused nothing but more trouble. How am I to control the young, hot-headed ones when you, our ally, my own chosen one, cut up two of the ancient order?"

"Your _boys_ were trying to hurt Bella," I snarled.

"They said they were only going to question her."

"They got in my way," I said flatly.

"They didn't realize you were also following her. They might have been some aid to you," Jasper added, almost apologetic. "But they were not acting on my orders. I trust you. They don't. Now that you've cut up two of them – "

I turned a narrow-eyed glare on Jasper. "Two of them? There's more that two Hoplite renegades running around town?" He winced and gave a grave nod. I barely restrained myself from grabbing Jasper by the front of his formal coat. "How many loose cannons are out there?"

"I cannot tell you."

"I'm on your side, Jasper."

"The injured men would not agree," he replied with a snide.

"They were threatening Bella."

"Miss Swan may have knowledge we require."

"She's a defenseless woman," I answered. "Comparatively. Why don't you pick on her father?"

"Because you assured us that the woman is more of a threat to us."

Damn.

Why hadn't I been more careful in what I told the Hoplite leader? Had I been boasting about Bella's brilliance? Or had my loose words slipped out during one of my fits of frustrated longing for the woman? That's what all of my annoyance and teasing and pestering of her always boiled down to – wanting her. And that wanting was even stronger after our lovemaking last night.

"I'll get your treasure back."

"Tonight. Time's up." Jasper insisted.

I looked around us. A dozen people noticed me and smiled, nodding my way.

"We're kind of busy tonight," I replied, my gaze wandering the expanse of the room.

"There is danger in the air," Jasper warned. "And very little time. The reckless ones are planning something. Spiros will not join them, but I cannot promise to stop the rest."

"More vandalism?" Fear slashed through me at Jasper's closed yet hostile expression. "Are they planning to harm Bella? What are they up to?" I wanted to run out and find the men who lurked in the shadows this instant. "I came here to solve your problems, Jasper. We had a deal."

"You still have an agreement with me, Masen, but the others…" He shook his head. "Bring me the treasure tonight, or she and her father will die. And they may not be the only ones. The Hoplites are prepared to do whatever they must to protect our sacred trust. I cannot give you any more time."

"I'll go to the authorities," I threatened.

"You took a _vow_. You are one of us." Jasper put a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. "There are papers that will be discovered linking to whatever violence may occur. You, my friend, would take _any_ blame. You would be provided to be the leader of a gang of thieves who raided this poor, defenseless village."

"Fuck you, Jasper," I said cuttingly, avoiding laughing in the man's face; I knew it would be foolish to give any sign that this blackmail meant nothing to me. If anything happened to Bella, what did I have to live for anyway? I gave Jasper a tight nod. "Tonight," I agreed. "You'll have your fucking treasure back tonight. And after tonight, I don't want to fucking see you again."

"Azrael – "

I walked away. What was I going to have to do to fulfill that promise? I had a good idea; lose the one thing I treasured, of course. Until I'd found her in Scotland, a sensuous woman finally ready to love and be loved, I had not truly realized how precious she was to me. In our usual setting she'd been a part of the landscape, as important as air, but scintillating give-and-take of tension between us had seemed as common as the sight of Pyramids in the desert beyond Cairo and as eternal.

Last night had changed everything.

Tonight would end it.

Last night had been pure, spontaneous passion. Tonight I must practice seduction, deception, tell lies and make promises I couldn't keep to wrest the necessary information from her. This would be the greatest, grandest betrayal to Bella of all…totally unforgiveable. I would break her heart and mine and I would do it because I must.

"Oh, _my_ God," one of the Muir lads whispered hoarsely.

I spun to face what he was looking at and faced the entrance. The lad and I were not the only ones whose attention focused on the doorway. In fact, it seemed as if the whole room had been waiting for some grand entrance and the whole room was not disappointed. The Swans had arrived.

Charlie Swan stood in the center of the wide, arched doorway to the great hall with Saida Swan, wearing a green gown, on his right arm and his sister Lauren, dressed in dove gray, was on his left. Beside her stood Rosalie Swan in a pastel frock with fresh flowers twined in her pale hair. The lovely girl would have been the center of attention but for one…_Bella_.

She stood slightly apart and ahead of the others. Her head high, crowned with elaborately arranged chestnut hair. Even standing still she was the most graceful woman I had ever seen. She was dressed from head to toe in scarlet but for white gloves and a plaid ribbon of green, blue, red, and white Swan tartan fastened high on her long throat. Even the beaded reticule she carried was a matching shade of the vivid red. It was not just a passionately red dress, it was – the way she wore it.

I wasn't imagining that the temperature in the room went up significantly as the male population reacted to Bella Swan's entrance. And it wasn't just the men. There were looks of disapproval and outright jealousy on the faces of many of the women present. I saw the way the tight-fitting, low-cut, sleeveless bodice revealed most of her shoulders and rounded breasts, and how the sweep of the heavy skirt molded and enhanced her already flawless figure. I am familiar with women's undergarments and I know that _that_ heavy look meant she was not wearing a bustle. Knowing Bella she didn't wear a bustle to not enhance further attraction to the dress, but it just gave the opposite effect.

All of a sudden I remembered and I understood why she'd taken the trouble to get permission to wear this frock at the Chancellor's reception several nights ago.

"Designed for an opera singer, I hear," a woman nearby whispered to another. "Delivered by mistake for the younger girl."

"Miss Swan volunteered to wear _that_ in her sister's place?" a shocked voice spoke behind a fan. "Brave of her, I must say."

"I wouldn't have had the courage."

"Nor the figure, Fiona," someone else said, and was answered by soft laughter.

_Clever girl, to head off a scandal beforehand,_ I thought as Bella let the pause go on just long enough, then moved into the hall ahead of her family with her usual incredible grace.

A stampede of men nearly tripped over each other in the rush to be the first to ask for a dance, offer to fetch her punch, exchange a greeting, or simply be near her. I held back, enjoying her surprise at this masculine reaction to her blatantly displayed feminine charms.

There was the faintest hint of color resting at the base of her long throat and across her elegant cheekbones. I knew I was not the only man there with the urge to kiss each tender spot. The dress made her look sophisticated, worldly, and much to my fucking dismay – available, but her expression was charmingly vulnerable and unsure. The combination was irresistible. She looked like a rare scarlet rose suddenly surrounded by honeybees in kilts. I smiled at the analogy until I recalled that flowers were pollinated by honeybees. And if anybody around her was going to do any fucking pollinating with Bella Swan, it would be me.

Well, no, that wasn't exactly what I meant…

Then the Laird of Muirford went off to kiss the hand of an exotic Egyptian widow. Meanwhile, Jasper had gone up to Aunt Lauren. I assumed Alice must be at home, not wanting to take away from Rosalie's first ball. Charlie spared me one blistering look, and then joined a conversation with Divac, Mitchell and some others. Emmett concentrated his attention on the gentler charms of Rosalie. Other conversations resumed. The band tuned up, and a waltz was announced as the next dance.

It was time to make my move. I stepped into the crowd around Bella, elbowing Crowley aside. I wondered what she would say when she saw me, what she would do. Would her expression soften with the memory of last night? Would her pulse quicken, her body sing with desire? Would we share a secret smile, a subtle touch?

"There you are," she said when her gaze finally settled on me.

There was a spark and flash in her light brown eyes, hitting me like lightning. Her eyes, brandy, holding the same color and richness- looking into them went straight to my head. I wanted to warm her with my hands the way one cupped a snifter of such brandy. I wanted to drink her in. "You make me drunk," I whispered in her ear, surrounded by the other men around us who still vied for her attention.

*~BPOV~*

Had I the power, I would have swept the room clear of everyone but Edward and I. I'd held my breath when I first walked in, afraid to look around in case he wasn't here. Aunt Lauren had fussed about what she wore the whole way to the ball, while Charlie, for once noticing my mood, kept trying to draw me into inane conversation. Both Saida and Rose had wanted my opinion on how they looked. I'd ignored them all and walked away from the demands they put on me when we entered the manor house.

All I wanted was Edward.

All I'd _ever_ wanted was Edward.

All I'd been able to think about on the short carriage ride up to the manor house was what I would say to Edward. But there was nothing but a blank spot in my mind, only the glowing core of desire that burned like the desert sun.

Outside the carriage the rain had stopped and the evening was clear, the stars overheard bright and lovely, but for the occasional scud of a cloud across the waning moon. It was a beautiful night for a ball, but my only reason for walking into the party was because it was where Azrael Edward Masen was to be found.

When I saw him at last, my breathing stopped. In a room full of fine, bonnie Scotsmen, I saw Azrael Edward Masen and my mind filled with the dark, sleek, and predatory image of Horus the Hawk. This impression cleared quickly enough, but Edward remained, a tall, bronzed hair man with intense dark eyes, a confident, scoundrel's air, and a sinful mouth. He was also graced with a brilliant tailor whose work had done a fine job of setting off Edward's wide shoulders and chest, narrow waist, and strong, long legs.

He was impeccable: perfect. I felt a longing, burning sensation right in my center. There wasn't a man in the room, or in this world to match him in looks and style. I doubted there was a woman at the ball who could resist such a temptation.

Not that I was going to give them a chance. Not for the world. I was ready. I came ready.

I was starting to blush just thinking how ready I was.

I smiled faintly. I had been jealous of Edward before. I'd written off my reaction to rumors that circulated around the small European community in Cairo as disgust at his wasting his life. The truth was, I admit, I'd been a green-eyed monster whether I'd known it or not.

What in the world? Why am I, all of a sudden, surrounded by people, smiling, laughing, complimenting me, kissing my hand and offering to fetch my punch, a plate, the stars? That was Professor Crowley, being facetious. I didn't want any of them near me. It felt as if I might have to claw my way through a pile of people to get to the one man in the room who meant anything to me.

Then Edward sauntered over to the rear of the crowd last and loomed over the lot, tall man that he was, and I looked up at him and said something inane.

"I'm here," he answered. "You're fashionably late," he muttered while staring at my cleavage with a smirk.

Music began to play on the other side of the room, and I became aware that Professor Crowley was holding out his hand. I gave Edward a triumphant glance before he said, "Remember that I asked for you to put me first on your dance card at the reception the other night, Miss Swan?"

I vaguely remembered a conversation about the ball. "I've had lessons, but I've never waltzed with a man before," I told Crowley.

"Her dancing master was a eunuch," Edward joked with a laugh.

"Aunt Lauren isn't a – "

Crowley was still waiting for me to take his hand, and I wasn't going to embarrass Rose now. "Are you sure you want to take the risk of my tripping over you, Professor?"

"She has large feet for a woman her size," Edward interjected from a safe spot behind, looking over the shoulders of two young men in highland dress. "But she is the finest dancer I've ever seen," he added when I flashed a look of outrage at him. His glittering emerald gaze was full of teasing humor. I thought there might be pride in his look as well, and was that a hint of jealousy?

Good Lord, _him_ jealous? How fucking delightful.

I let the historian from England lead me out of the sea of young Highlanders surrounding me.

A few moments later I saw Edward on the dance floor with Tanya Denali held confidently in his arms. _He_ had obviously danced the waltz before, and so had Tanya, from the easy way she fitted into Edward's embrace and followed his lead in the head, swirling steps.

I forgot all about making Edward jealous and concentrated on hating him and the honorable Tanya Denali equally. The music did nothing but serve to emphasize Edward's masculine grace and power as he guided another woman around the small space set aside as a dance floor.

Nor was I the only woman who couldn't take my eyes off him. I was too aware of all the others who took note of the handsome American, of how they exchanged looks and talked behind their fans as he went by. He would be considered quite a catch by some of the young women, I suppose.

_Damn it all!_ If that just didn't drive me insane. What if he returned interest toward some proper woman from the academic community who could help advance his career? It had never occurred to me that anyone might set her camp for him, and why not? He was not only devastatingly beautiful; he was brilliant, with an exciting hint of mystery and adventure about him. Perhaps he might meet a woman from a good family, with moral purity that could make a home for him and have his babies.

Have his babies?_ No_ woman could have Edward Masen's children but _me_.

"Miss Swan?"

"_What_?" I spat, my mind retching with the thought of Edward pro-creating with anyone other than myself.

Crowley's gulp was audible. "You're snarling."

I became aware that my lips were drawn ferociously back in fury.

"What's wrong?" Crowley asked. "Did I step on your foot?"

"No." I replied, catching my breath though still flustered. I did my best to smile at the man I was dancing with. "I always look like this when I waltz."

"You said you'd never waltzed before." When I turned a fierce look on him, Crowley added, "Perhaps it would be safer if Dr. Masen and I changed partners."

"Is it that obvious?" I groaned out.

I realized how handsome Crowley was as he smiled and told me, "To everyone who has met either of you in the last few days," he sighed. "Still, I'd heard of your feud when I was in Aleppo. Masen got drunk and told me some of your history. He was convinced you hated him."

"He was right." _He thought about me when were apart?_

"But that didn't stop you from loving him. Very similar emotions love and hate," he sighed, again. "Still, when I met you I nursed some hopes."

"Of what?" I asked, unsure of whether I wanted the answer or not.

He shook his head. "You've never considered another man but him have you?"

"Not since I was seventeen," I admitted, shyly, looking over Crowley's shoulder to get a glimpse of Edward and Tanya. "But it looks like he has other ideas."

"If I'm lucky, he does." Crowley's smile was bright and hopeful. "But I'm afraid it's only one dance."

"That's how it starts," I said, remembering the night before. "With a dance."

"We're dancing."

I smiled at him. "This isn't dancing."

"You're breaking my heart," he whined.

"Professor Crowley, I – "  
He laughed. "Why don't you run off with me, Miss Swan, in your lovely scarlet dress and your head full of more wit than any dozen men in this room?" The music stopped and we came to a stop in the center of the crowded dance floor, but Crowley did not release his hold on my waist. "Would you like to come away with me?" he asked. "Or would you rather I fetch you some punch?"

"Neither," I answered, and stepped back.

I heard him say, "I was afraid you'd say that," as I turned in search of Edward.

~*EPOV*~

Lady Angela introduced me to her niece Lady Victoria, a beautiful red-haired young woman wearing a tartan over her white gown. Bella marched up to my side before any conversation began. She placed her hand on my forearm, and when I looked her way she said, "We're at a Highland Ball, Dr. Masen."

"I have noticed that, Miss Swan."

"You're a historian, are you not?" she asked her eyebrow furrowed.

I rubbed my jaw, clearly she's bating me. I tried to convey with my expression that I was both amused and puzzled. "I like to think I know some history."

Damn it, I can literally see the wheels in her brain turning. _What are you up to, Bella?_

I suddenly hated everyone in this room, no, I mostly hated that we were constantly surrounded by people. Egypt contained far more sand, rock, and ruins than people, and holding conversations was so much easier when we were the only ones around. She clearly had things to say to me now. I wanted to desperately run out of this fucking room and drag her with me and fuck her senseless.

"Do you know any highland history? The Swan clan motto, perhaps?" she asked, curtly.

"I'm afraid I've never heard your family motto."

"'I am ready.'"

I was warmed by the fire in Bella's eyes and by the determined look on her face. I lived for that familiar light of battle in her eyes.

"You are ready? For what, exactly?" I said, perplexed.

"That's the clan motto," Lady Angela explained.

Isabella was the most amazingly beautiful woman in the room – in the world. It wasn't just the vivid, daring dress and the way it showed off her high, round breasts and molded her slender waist. It was everything. I forgot that I had decided to seduce her for the sake of finding the Alexandrian treasure, and simply decided to be seduced. "And I am ready means…?"

"Exactly what you think it does," she answered huskily, and took me by the arm. "Let us have a look at Sir Michael's garden, and I'll explain more about the Swan clan to you."

She gave me a firm tug and I went without any protest, barely aware of walking through the crowded room and out the open French doors with her. I was aware only that we were arm in arm, that my heart was racing, and that my body was tight with need – and that was as much as I could handle until I found that we were alone together in the fragrant shadows of a thick rose arbor.

Then I pulled her to me and kissed her, and her body melded against mine, matching my ardor in a way that scorched away the last vestiges of coherent thought for a very long time. After what seemed hours I spoke.

"You might be ready, but I'm not sure I am," I said as I pulled away laughing breathlessly into her loosened hair. I don't recall running my hand through it to tumble it down around her head, but there it was, soft as a satin pillow against my cheek and smelling of flowers and spice. I wasn't sure when we'd stopped kissing, or why.

_Where the devil were we_? I breathed in the scent of roses and rain-damp earth. There was music in the distance, if one could call bagpipes musical.

Oh, yes, Sir Michael's garden, the highland Ball.

I had a mission: seduce Bella to wrest the secret of the hidden treasure from her. Retrieve the treasure and get it and the Hoplites who threatened her out of the country. Break her heart, but leave her safely settled in her homeland away from any foreign danger.

Wait…break _both_ our hearts.

Bella moved subtly against me, sending a bolt of need through my already hard as steel cock. She stroked it.

"You're ready," she whispered back, a deep, sensual huskiness in her voice.

"This isn't quite the time and…ungh…don't stop," I groaned out. She's _driving me insane with want._ I couldn't help myself and thrust into her hand.

I skimmed my hands up her back and bunched heavy handfuls of rich fabric within them as I cupped her lovely round ass.

_What the hell?_

"You're not wearing a bustle," I murmured. In fact, I didn't feel any of the undergarments that I assisted her with last night. I kissed her throat and she arched her back to give me access to all that marvelously exposed cleavage.

"I love your dress," I said between kissing the tops of her breasts and the sweet valley in between. "I'd love you to take it off." She made a husky deep giggle and the sound set off sparks all throughout me.

_This is going too fast._ I made a quick glance to the wall to my left a darker secluded corner next to the rose arbor. An image of backing Bella against that wall, hiking up her skirts, and fucking her senseless flashed temptingly through my mind. But light spilled out across the lawn, and possibly other couples could be in the garden. We could be discovered at any moment, and our current position was compromising enough. I didn't want to ruin her reputation, but I just couldn't fucking help myself. I continued my ministrations mercilessly on her nipples and she gave a throaty groan that challenged my resolve. I had to stop. I realized she meant too much to me to let this continue and risk us being discovered.

As I was about to put some distance between us, Bella grabbed my forearms and pulled me to said wall and raised her left calf up slowly to my hip while her deep golden eyes met my own gaze.

The rise and falls of her glorious cleavage matched my own, her chocolate curls disheveled, swollen pink lips glistened in the moonlight, and she never looked so tempting and wanton.

"Edward," she whispered. "I want you, _now_."

Fuck.

"Bella, I don't think –"

"Don't." She raised my hand and kissed every finger before holding my index finger between her pouty lips and flicking it with her tongue. She then slid her finger down her chin, neck, and in the valley between her cleavage before reaching her clothed waist. Her small fists gripped the thick fabric and raised the heavy skirt before placing my finger in between her deliciously slick folds.

I could not contain the deep snarl that left my lips.

Fuck me, I fucking knew it. She wasn't wearing any god damn undergarments under that dress and she was in fact _ready_.

I grabbed both of her and raised her hips and I ground my hips right into her center, right where I knew she craved me the most.

Her body arched into my own as she moaned at the sensation.

"That won't fucking do! You must be quieter than that if you want me now, Bella," I growled in frustration.

What the hell did she think she was doing? Baiting me like this! Dangling the finest of raw, mouthwatering meat's right before me, as though I am some untamed beast…a lion, ready to devour the sacrifice that this little lamb is offering to me…_her sex_.

She knew what she was doing, taunting me, torturing me. Her body screaming at me like a siren call, dripping with desire, want…for _me_. Beckoning me to plunge myself deep within her warm abyss and take what is rightfully mine…what has _always_ been mine..._her_.

"_Please_," she begged and writhed as she reached for my trouser opening.

I opened my trousers and released my weeping cock.

"Please what?" I breathed, running my nose along her jaw, breathing in her scent, her arousal.

"I…want…I...,"she stuttered and shook against the wall.

"Me? You want _me_?" I suggested huskily

"You," she breathed, her eyes closed in relief.

"Well…why didn't you just say so," I said finally as I lifted her off the ground, one hand beneath her ass, the other gripping my straining cock.

There were no more questions, no more words as she pulled on her skirts, hiking them up around her waist. I entered her hard. In one quick thrust, pausing momentarily to enjoy the feel of her warmth wrapped around me, before continuing to squeeze, and push my hardened dick as deep as her body would allow. Her walls constricted even further, clenching me like a noose- the deeper and deeper I would go.

All that she wanted, she received. I thrust, and dragged my cock in and out of her with full complete strokes. The head of my cock teasingly escaping her small, drenched entrance before diving roughly back in. There was no gentleness here now, no subtle play, no slow seduction. There was only the raw need to possess, to own. To claim Bella as mine. To bury myself deep within her walls as she milked my cock like some salaciously ravenous kitten hell bent on draining me dry.

I would give her what she wanted…what her body needed. I would feed her hunger, and my own.

I moved within her, each thrust hard- harder, a rhythm that swept us up and brought us higher. And when I could fly no higher, and finally brought us to the explosion we both ached for, longed for, when I had not even known it existed, it hit me…how could I ever let her go?

I savored in the feel of her walls clenching around me as she called my name. My mouth quickly covering her panting, and parted lips to stifle her moans of ecstasy. Moans that I caused…that I put there. With one final thrust I spilled my seed, gripping her hips so that her already sleek core could ride my draining cock. She slithered over me, her walls still contracting as I emptied into her warm awaiting womb, her body impaled by my rigid cock as I pulsed endlessly inside her, my orgasm, this orgasm unlike anything I had ever experienced. I didn't want it to end.

But it did.

Reluctantly I pulled out of her as I softly kissed her blush and lowered her legs. I held on to her since her legs were wobbly and had seemed to give out at first.

"Let's run away," she said, her lips brushing against my ear.

Her words jarred me so much I took a step back. "What?" I heard myself ask over the wild pounding of my heart.

"You heard me." Bella's breathing was as ragged as mine, the rise and fall of her chest matched my own. There was a wild glitter in her brandy-brown eyes.

This was indeed moving too fast. And wasn't I supposed to bring up the idea of running together?

"I thought we might indulge in a lifelong passionate affair while digging up desiccated dead people together. I'm so tired of taking care of everyone. I want a life to call my own," she rushed.

"And you deserve it," I replied with a cracked voice as I nodded my head.

She drew in a long breath. "I try so hard not to want anything for myself, but what good has it ever done me? If I'm to be a man's mistress I ought to have a say in whose mistress I am, shouldn't I?"

"You w-want to be my mistress?" I stuttered, shocked.

"Yes. If you'll have me," she said confidently. She sounded very sure of herself. She looked very determined, as well as ravishingly beautiful in her daring scarlet dress, with her hair tumbled around her shoulders. She looked every inch the carnal female, a temptress, thoroughly irresistible, and I was no angel.

I knew I shouldn't be grinning like a child who'd just been let loose in a candy shop, or feel like an explorer who'd stumbled onto a temple made of solid gold. I kissed her - hard, fast, and sweet. "Good god, woman!" I kissed her again, and ran my hands over her perfect, responsive body.

After a few delicious moments, she put her hands on my chest and firmly pushed me away. "I take it that your answer is yes," she said.

"Bella," I murmured, dropping to my knees and burying my head into her heavy skirt.

_She chose me! _She wants _me_.

Making my betrayal all the much more impossible but necessary to keep her alive and safe. I wanted to kiss my way up and down the length of her legs, and between them. I wanted her to dance for me, naked on her back, with me hot and hard between her thighs. Bella's hands combed gently through my hair for a moment. Then she whispered urgently, "We'd better hurry. I hear someone coming. Can we steal a carriage, perhaps? I must go back to the house and pack a few things."

I rose to my feet. "What sort of trousseau does a girl pack to begin a life of sin?" I tugged a long tendril of chocolate that fell across her shoulder. "And I drove one of the hotel's vehicles; all we have to do is fetch it and go."

"Well then," she said, and strode briskly from the arbor, "let's go. What are we waiting for?"

I followed her stride as ever.

**Author's Note: **The next chapter will be the final of TR. It has been a pleasure being the captain of this Egyptian carpet ride and hope to hear from you via Reviews. Thank you.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. No copyright infringement is intended. I only sprinkle it with Egyptian sand.

**Author's Note: **I apologize for being neglectful my lovelies…I won't let you wait any longer.

*~EPOV~*

I paced back and forth in the small walled garden of the Swan house where Bella had left me while she packed a bag – muttering to myself, "no, no, no."

She had a shy smile and had whispered, "I won't be long."

I couldn't stand my excitement, my giddiness, and all I could do was kiss her temple and speak fervently, "hurry, love." Certain that my face: my eyes, said a lot more than I ever could. She had nodded and bit that pillow-like lower lip making me hold back a groan of frustration, lust, need, want, and _love_ as she went inside the Swan house in haste and stopped to look into my eyes before she walked in the door.

_As if I wouldn't wait forever for her_.

A small light glowed in the second-story window overhead, and I occasionally caught a glimpse of her shadow as she moved swiftly in front of the lamp. While Bella hurried through her preparations of running away, I rehearsed what I would say and do once she joined me in the garden.

_Damn you Alexander! The Great? A great pain in my ass! What do I do? What do I say?_

I am so very tempted to simply run away with her.

It would be glorious.

It would be grand.

It would _also_ be fatal.

We couldn't return to the Middle East. I thought about taking her back to America with me but abandoned that idea quickly. I'd made a vow to aid the Hoplites, and they would not allow me to abandon my sworn mission. With the Hoplites in pursuit, any sensual interlude between Bella and I would be intense but short-lived.

Perhaps I didn't need to leave to get the treasure's whereabouts. Perhaps I could tell Bella the truth.

_Sure Masen._ Let's convince her that your Hoplite buddy told an American outsider all the secrets of his ancient and secret Macedonian Greek society. That's brilliant! She'll gobble all that up like the hot-blooded-independent-stubborn thinker she is and believe every damn word.

_I am so screwed. And what the hell is keeping her?_

I can't do it.

I can't lie to her any longer.

I can't live without her.

I can't put her at risk.

I can't stop loving her.

And I _cannot_ run away with her.

She is everything I ever wanted. She is a wonderful mixture of sensuality, innocence, and mischief. An enigma:_ Isabella Cleopatra Swan_. Sir Michael said it best when he said that she was named properly. The Egyptian queen was just as stubborn and proud and beautiful. The queen did not even submit in her death to her conquerors. She hid her body in a sarcophagus. A tomb. Surrounded by her servants and treasure…

Wait.

Treasure.

Tomb.

All at once as in a flash; scenes, sounds, words scanned within my brain.

_She hid the treasure in the old graveyard! _

_That little vixen_. I smirked knowingly at the glowing window. I should be running to that tiny cemetery I found Isabella right after the last vandalism claim. _That is why she was so insistent that we leave the scene._ She knew I would figure it out. But I couldn't move my feet. I was still looking at the glowing window, waiting, as ever for her. I love her and she is the true treasure. Her life is too precious and I must protect her. She is my life now. I must tell her the truth. She is going to hate me.

It seems that I was going to have to stick to my original plan. Seduce and conquer. Lie and steal. Except that I had trouble remembering the plan every second she was at close proximity. The seduction part came easily; it was leaving her –

"Hell," I snarled, and punched the nearest tree trunk with my fist. I swore again at the pain, and shook my aching hand. No. I will tell her the truth. The Hoplites might kill me, but I'd rather die the man she deserves than live knowing I failed her again.

_Never again. _

I whirled around in surprise as a hand tapped me on the shoulder. Bella had the sense to jump back and duck. She'd put out the lamp before leaving the house, so the only illumination in the garden was the moonlight. It was enough to show me that she'd changed into a familiar split riding skirt and jacket. The rucksack she held in one hand was also familiar. She indeed planned on traveling light if all the worldly goods she deemed necessary were inside a bag she could carry on her back. Her eyes were large in her face, and bright with excitement. She is so goddamn beautiful. I couldn't help but kiss those delicious lips once before I put my hand under her elbow and guided her toward the gate in the back wall.

She walked stiffly beside me, and I stared straight ahead. If I looked at her I wouldn't go through with it – but I had to go through with it. I wanted her to live. We would go back to the hotel first. I'd take her to bed, and once I had her fully aroused –

We stopped with silent, mutual accord. Bella slipped away from my touch and looked back at the house with a deep, heartbroken sigh.

"I can't go through with this," her voice caught on the words. "I simply can't."

~BPOV~

I broke my own heart.

He smiled sympathetically and said, "I wondered when you'd say that, sweetheart."

An hour ago I had been certain. An hour ago, I had been strong, ready to abandon the small, chaotic kingdom that Charlie Swan ruled and I ran, to strike out on a life of sin.

Edward put his hand on the latch of the gate. When he would have opened it, I covered his hand with mine. "I can't go." I thought I said my conclusion out loud.

"You can't stay, either," he told me, "time to burn your bridges." He kissed my cheek before brushing his lips across mine, tracing my mouth with the tip of his tongue. "You don't want to stay."

"I know very well that I do not want to stay," I answered with my usual asperity. "What does what I want have to do with it?"

"Everything."

"Nothing," I countered, sighing again. "They need me."

"I need you."

"But you aren't fourteen. I can't leave Alice."

"Alice is your father's responsibility."

"I raised her from a chick; I think I know whose responsibility she is. Charlie likes having her about, when he remembers that any of us are there, but he hasn't raised her, and what about Rose?" I scoffed.

"She has your Aunt Lauren to look after her."

Edward straightened from his slouched position. "And if you dare to say your father needs you, I'm walking out of here without you. Leave the man to do his own work. Digging through castle ruins in the outer Hebrides will be good for him."

"But…Alexander..."

"Is dead."

Edward snagged an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. After he'd kissed me for a while and desire was singing sharp and sizzling in my veins, he whispered, "We're not dead."

I rested my head on his shoulder, "I noticed that."

He simply held me for a time, while a ragged cloud moved slowly across the moon and the world turned a little bit closer toward morning. This felt good. This felt right.

Minutes passed and a sudden current flowed through my blood: adrenaline. It was coming off in waves from Edward's body. He sighed; a deep, heartbroken sigh. "I can't go through with this."

I leaned back and peered at him. Even in the moonlight, the hurt was clear in his eyes. I'm certain it mirrored my own. "You d-don't want to run away with me?"

"I do, actually," he said, "very much." He held me out at arm's length and brushed a stray wisp of hair from my forehead. Touching me now made me ache with bittersweet desire. I had never been lonelier in my life. "But not like this."

Tears were in my eyes, and my voice shook, but I spoke with my usual logic. "Then you understand about Alice. The poor dear's upstairs sleeping…she was so still I couldn't bring myself to wake her to say good bye. She is very unhappy here and needs me and – "

"This has nothing to do with your family, Bella."

"Why can't you just kiss me and sweep me away from all this?"

_If only my life could be that simple…_

"Ride up on a white stallion and kidnap you, you mean?"

"Or camel, I'd appreciate that." He smiled his beautiful, crooked grin.

"No. You're a doing-everything-of-your-own-free-will sort of person. You've proved that time and again. And half the time I never noticed. You can't and shouldn't be coerced."

"I know, but…," I had never been more confused in my life. It was as if some great storm was buffeting me from both inside and out, tearing me in a thousand different directions. The one thing I was sure of was that I wanted, needed, and _loved_ Edward Masen. My heart told me one thing, but my mind roiled with a dozen different needs and expectations, and I damned my soul. "One of us needs to be irresponsible, Edward. I was counting on it being you."

He laughed, but the sound was so bitter it terrified me. "I can't coerce you into this. Or seduce it out of you."

I had the scariest feeling that I didn't know what the hell he was talking about. The darkness of the night seemed to grow darker as he spoke. _It's a cloud over the moon._ "You could try," I whispered. Uncertain.

He touched me, brief brushes of his fingertips across my cheeks, my throat. His thumb gently traced my lips. I couldn't stop myself from kissing it and drawing it seductively between my teeth. His breath caught in a sharp gasp of response, and he practically jumped away from me.

_Why are you fighting this? What are you hiding?_

His hands clenched into fists and his sides as he leaned back against the garden gate. I'd never seen Edward so tense. "I really was going to do it – but I can't. I thought it would be…not easy, but that it would work. Time's running out and I – "

A climbing rose trellis threw a spider web of shadows across his face, but his dark eyes were clearly visible. The mixture of stark pain and regret in them frightened me. I stood rooted in place, my heavy rucksack dangling from my hand. I was dressed to run away with this man, to toss all respectability to the winds and–

"I see," I said quietly, calmly, dying. _Breathe Bella._ "This has all been the same old game with you. You decided to seduce me, promise me love everlasting, and talk into giving you the treasure as a token of my devotion to you." It was the one thing I'd trusted him never to do. Edward fought hard, and he could be devious, but I had never, ever thought he would use my emotions; use desire, use the hope of a future together, against me. How could he do this to me?

He broke my already broken heart.

"Something like that," he spit out. "Exactly like that," he admitted.

"What made you lose your nerve?" The bag fell from my nerveless fingers and I found that I had turned my back on Edward, though I didn't recall moving. I looked up at the now starry sky as his hands settled on my shoulders. I shrugged away from his touch and whirled to face him.

~EPOV~

I was ready for it, and I didn't so much as flinch when her closed fist slammed across my cheek.

"Ouch. I was expecting a slap, not a punch." I grabbed her wrist when she swung at me again. "I know I deserve to have the stuffing beat out of me. If we live through this, you can pummel me senseless, but we don't have time right now."

"We have all the time in the world," she snarled back. "Since we're not going anywhere and I'm not telling you what you want to know." Good god she was delectable when she was angry.

I grabbed her free hand before she could hit me with it, and held on tight. I pulled her closer and looked around; having not even taken a moment to truly observe my surroundings. I rarely did when Bella was in close proximity. "You are going to tell me where the treasure is."

I had a very good feeling it was in the cemetery hidden in a vacant tomb somewhere but I needed to hear it from her. I needed her to trust me with the truth.

"We don't even claim to have a treasure," she answered. "Nor would I tell you even if we did."

_Of course._

"You haven't yet found Alexander's resting place, but you do have some of his grave goods. You brought them back to Scotland and they are hidden away until your father presents the last paper of the conference. It's an open secret."

"It is a rumor," she corrected. "Charlie has made no claims –"

"Because he's afraid of creating the same sort of controversy as Schliemann's find at Troy. By presenting last, no one will have time to raise questions or demand more proof. What your father will get is 'oohs and aahs' and universal praise from his colleagues. Praise that will launch the university with a bang, and practically guarantee that Sir Michael will send him back to Amorgis to finish the search for Alexander's grave. That was the plan." I smirked at her raised eyebrow. She knew I had figured it out.

"That would be a very good plan if this treasure existed."

"Except that Sir Michael has a bee in his bagpipe about exploring his own country's history. I don't think your returning to Amorgis is likely any time soon. Especially since you aren't going to have a treasure to display at the end of the conference. The treasure is going back to where it belongs -"

"It belongs in a museum!"

"-and you're going to help me return it to it's rightful owner."

"Alexander is dead; he isn't missing it," she hesitated after saying, "if this treasure exists."

"A gold oak-leaf crown: three gold, ivory and marble statues, a gold burial chest embossed with the sun symbol of Macedonian royal family, and a gold wine goblet decorated with a battle scene featuring a portrait of Alexander's favorite horse."

Bella's mouth hung open in shock for a moment; she shut it with a snap. "No one knows those details but Charlie and I."

~BPOV~

How the hell did he figure this out? What is going on? Even Sir Michael had _only_ been shown the gold chest. The rest was a magnificent surprise yet to be revealed to the world.

"The Hoplite Order knows. They've always known. They've been searching for the treasure for centuries."

"The Hoplite what?" As far as I knew, hoplite was the archaic word for a Greek soldier. Alexander won his empire with his hoplite army.

"The Hoplite Order," Edward repeated. He looked around furtively again before whispering. "They're an ancient secret society."

He looked serious. Of course, he'd looked serious when we made love last night, when all he wanted was some gold baubles instead of me. At least I knew what I was worth to him. My heart hurt. "Secret society?" I repeated, concentrating on my outrage at the nonsense he was spouting rather than on my breaking heart. "Secret society! What sort of foolishness do you expect me to – "

"Hush!"

He pulled me to him and placed a hand over my mouth for a moment. "You're in deadly peril, Isabella. I'm not joking. We'll hold this conversation in hushed tones. Do you understand?" I nodded behind the pressure of his hand, and he released me.

I stepped away from him, glaring, but when I spoke it was quietly. "Deadly peril, my foot. Secret society, indeed."

Edward held his hands out before him. "I know how it sounds. I made a vow to help them recover the lost treasure stolen from Alexander's tomb. I don't want the grave goods for myself, Bella – I'm trying to save your and your father's lives. There's a death mark on you for desecrating the tomb if you don't return the crown and other treasures. And I shouldn't be telling you any of this."

My body started shaking uncontrollably.

"Because you know I'll laugh in your face? Or because spouting such nonsense could get you locked up in a madhouse? You expect me to believe that you're in league with this, this Hoplite Brotherhood?" I've heard of these fanatical groups taking almost to terrorist antics to get their points across, but why was Edward involved. "Why are you involved, Edward?"

"This is different," he told me. "This is dangerous. This is real. They are fanatics who have carried out their sacred trust for thousands of years. They came to me because their former leader got to know me and he became my mentor. On the field, Apoloduro's tribe raided our camp and killed everyone including my mentor but me and the Hoplite's present leader." He paused and took a breath. I remember hearing about the raid and I knew instantly he was talking about Carlisle and Jasper Whitlock. "I didn't know at the time who my mentor truly was nor his…heir. The Hoplite heir visited me when I was recovering from the accident. Before I knew who he really was, we had long discussions about how Westerners are taking far too many treasures from the lands where they belong. They knew you'd found the grave goods they'd lost long ago and spirited them out of the country. They want them back. I agree that the objects rightfully belong to them. I believe we need to be careful about what we take and how we deal with people now living in the lands we explore. I don't want to exploit the past." He paused and looked at me. His beautiful gaze weary.

I kept quiet, allowing him to continue. "They're descendents from all the soldiers in Alexander's elite bodyguard. Macedonian, Greek, Persian, Egyptian, Bactrian, the guard were picked from every land Alexander conquered, all devoted to their emperor – as are their descendants. They spirited his body out of Alexandria when the Romans took over Egypt and took it to a secret hiding place."

"Amorgis," I whispered.

"I can't say. The head of the order swore me to secrecy and used the precedent that Alexander's bodyguard was always international to initiate me as one of them. He thought I'd be useful in getting the treasure out of a foreign land with a minimum of fuss and bother for the Hoplites. I break my vow to them now because I cannot lie to you. I am trying to save your life, woman. Do you think I'd try to coerce information from you with sex if this wasn't deadly serious?"

"I think you're pathetic." I refused to be touched by any of his earnestness. "I think that you're at wit's end and disgusting. Expecting me to believe such ridic-"

He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. I tried to fight from his grasp. "That's the point!" He was the one who raised his voice this time. "I knew you wouldn't believe the truth! No woman in her right mind would believe this tale." He put his fingers beneath my chin forcing me to look him in the eye. "I should not have told you, but I couldn't go through with taking you to my bed to learn your secrets. When I take you to bed, it is because I want to make love to you, because I – "

My body went completely still. It was my Edward who looked away first. He let me go and put his hands behind his back. When he looked back at me, he was smiling. "I have proof."

I crossed my arms beneath my breasts. I cleared my voice getting his gaze back to my own. "What proof?"

Why was I standing here and listening to this man? My weakness was that I never could dismiss him out of hand no matter how much he deserved my contempt.

_I love him._

"The Hoplites have been issuing warnings for days now."

"What warnings?"

"The stolen necklace found in the museum case. The graffiti on the university building. The desecration at the graveyard. Can't you see? They were sending a message about how wrong it is to steal and profane other cultures' treasures. Bella, the Hoplite Order is responsible for the vandalism"

I laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, Edward. That bit of heavy-handed foolishness is Alice's doing."

His mouth dropped.

"Alice keeps the horse you gave her at Lady Angela's stables. She could easily have taken the necklace. She has unquestioned access to the museum, so leaving the necklace in the display case was easy for her. As for defacing the building…I met her on the university commons the night it was done – and while she speaks Greek beautifully, her writing leaves much to be desired. If you will recall, there were spelling mistakes in the graffiti."

"But why would she – "

"The gravestones are a puzzle, though." I touched my chin thoughtfully. "I haven't quite figured out how she managed to topple them. But I suppose a simple lever…and then, there's Spiros. I've seen them talking. Perhaps that young Greek helped her. She's a hellion, my little sleeping darling. She wants to go back to the life we left and is acting up because she's miserable here." I glanced back at the dark bedroom window remembering her frozen, sleeping form under the covers.

"Who knows what mischief she's…planning…in...her...dreams…"

~EPOV~

Bella's voice slowed with each word, until she said sharply, "Alice Olympia Swan is a light sleeper who didn't so much as move a muscle while I packed and – wait right here." She ran towards the house.

Alarm bells were going off in my head as well, as Bella ran into the house. "Spiros," I whispered hoarsely as the door banged shut behind her. I ran a hand across my face. Alice knew and trusted Spiros, a member of the Hoplite Order. "Good God, this could mean anything." I was certain in my bones that it meant trouble.

I picked up the bag Bella had left lying on the damp grass. The old canvas rucksack was heavy for its size. When I opened it, I wasn't surprised to discover that there were no clothes packed inside, no dainty, lacy bits of undergarment in which to begin her life of sin.

"Let's see," I said, taking out each item and dropping it on the ground. Notebook, pen, ink, spyglass, copy of _Jane Eyre_. "Ah, here we are." I smiled as I took out the large item at the very bottom of the bag. "One Colt Navy revolver." She does have a fondness for American firearms. I made a quick check. Fully loaded. That's my girl. I slipped the revolver into my belt.

I was coldly certain that I was going to need the gun an instant later when Bella came pelting back out of the house. The look of panic on her face terrified the hell out of me. She'd obviously discovered that Alice was not sleeping in her bed and wasn't anywhere else in the house. I wasn't even sure Bella saw me as I stepped into her path and grabbed her before she could go rushing out of the garden. I could tell by her fear that she'd begun to believe me on an instinctive, if not rational, level. My only question was whether Alice had gone on off for a bit of freelance vandalism on her own, or whether the Hoplite fanatics had abducted her as a bargaining piece.

I recalled seeing Spiros at the Highland Ball, but the young man could have left to meet Alice. Had Jasper's young lieutenant gone over to the side of his more radical brothers?

"Let go of me!" When I didn't drop my hands, Bella stepped hard on my foot. I ignored this. "I have to go after Alice!"

"Of course we do," I answered as she wriggled, trying to escape my tight grasp. I gave her a small shake. "Look at me and listen. First, fighting me won't do Alice any good." She finally stopped struggling, took a deep breath, and looked at me. The eyes that met mine were full of deep terror of the unknown and glistened with unshed tears. "You don't want to believe that this is a life and death situation," I explained. "But deep down, you know it is."

"You're trying to frighten me and doing a fine job of it," she added viciously.

"Good. You need to be frightened." She sucked in a shocked gasp. "You think clearly when you're frightened."

I closed my eyes for a moment and held her close for a few heartbeats. She was tense as an alabaster sculpture, but she did rest her head on my shoulder.

"Listen to me. Please."

_Her stubbornness is going to kill me one day._

"I'm listening."

"Trust me now. I know what I've told you sounds farfetched, but every word is true. Believe me. Trust me. For Alice's sake and for yours."

She dropped her gaze from mine, lowered her defiant chin to a more reasonable angle, and said, "How many of these Hoplites do we have to go through to get to my sister?"

**Author's Note: **It was very…ambitious of me to claim that I would complete this finale in one chapter and I am currently uncertain how many more chapters I will continue to write. Nevertheless, I am certain that TR's completion is very close and you will have an update in three weeks. Thank you for sticking with me and the story. Boobie gropes and ass smacks go to my sweet tits and beta-wife Lilith617. Thank you so much!


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